Try to Die Another Day
by Eccentwrit
Summary: Dean's soul is destroyed in the final battle between Heaven and Hell. Cas is too late to save him. Devastated, Cas does the only thing he can- he goes back in time to when he first met Dean. Because now Cas has a chance to give everyone he cares about a second chance to get things right, and with everything they've sacrificed, they deserve it. Complete summary inside.
1. The Meeting

**TTDAD Chapter 1**

**Hey. I'm not dead. I took a break from fanfiction for a while to develop my muse and my writing style. Hopefully there will be a vast improvement from my other stories.**

**This time I'm back with a new story for a new fandom. **

**I don't own Supernatural. I'm just borrowing it for a while.**

**Since I didn't have room for the full summary, I'm posting it here:**

It's the final battle between Heaven and Hell. Dean, Sam, and Cas are fighting for their lives and for their freedom, and for once things seem to be going in their favor- until Dean gets caught in the crossfire between an archdemon and archangel. The blast destroys Dean before Cas can pull him out of the way. This time though, Cas can't resurrect Dean because it wasn't just Dean's body that was obliterated, but his soul as well. There isn't anything left for Cas to bring back.

Cas can't handle that. Dean taught him to never give up, so if he can't bring Dean back, he's going to do everything in his power to make sure it never happens in the first place. It's a good thing angels are capable of time travel.

But if he's going to do this, Cas is going to do it right. There's so much stuff they could've stopped- so many tragedies they could've prevented- if only they had had a warning. And with Dean gone, Cas is realizing how much his friend meant to him, and how much time they wasted arguing when they could have had the greatest friendship in all the world.

It's time to set things right, and with everything they've done, with everything they've sacrificed for the greater good, they deserve a second chance.

**This story is going to start at Lazarus Rising (4x01) and continue on from there. **

**It's also my NaNoWriMo project for this year, so expect semi-frequent updating for this entire month. Updates may slow down a bit after that, but I'm not gonna abandon this project like I have other ones.**

**First chapter is short, but the rest will be much longer.**

**Read and review. **

**Let's begin.**

Dean is in Hell, and he is screaming.

Whether he is screaming in pain or rapture, even he doesn't know anymore. The knife in his hand bites into the soul under him, ripping and tearing at flesh-but-not. The soul flickers and writhes under him. Dean's mouth twitches, and he doesn't know if it's a grin or a grimace.

Really, he doesn't know what he is anymore.

There's a part of him, a small part tucked away inside that is still sane, that is abhorrent at what he's doing. That hates himself for being weak enough to take the knife to get off the rack. A part of him that says that whatever these souls did to deserve Hell, they don't deserve this. A part that says he's supposed to be better than this.

He hasn't believed that in years.

Dean knows what he must look like to those around him. In Hell, he has no body to be torn or mangled. Instead, he is nothing but soul, and that soul is what all see. He's done so much evil here to others' souls, his own must be small and black- a charred and pitiless thing. He knows this.

So really, he doesn't know why he should believe he could be any better. He's already destroyed all the good left in himself. He might not have earned Hell when he first arrived, but he has now.

Time passes. Not that time has much meaning in Hell, between one torment or another. Wispy black shreds of a soul known as Alistair come to check on him. He approves of Dean's work and encourages him to tear here and carve there. Dean complies, because the alternative is worse.

Dean hates Alistair more than anything, and the parts of his soul that aren't rotten pulse in fury. The rest is numb.

Hell is fire and brimstone, ice and pain. The tortures change and become more creative so the souls underneath can never adjust to the pain. There is always new pain. Dean thought he was freeing himself from his own suffering when he took the knife. Parts of him wonder if this- himself torturing souls in Hell like a demon (becoming a demon, a part of him whispers)- is his torture. He wonders if this is his Hell.

But, like many things, the more things change the more they stay the same. So despite the constant micro-changes made around him, Dean knows that nothing in Hell truly does.

But then it does.

It starts off as a shift in the air. A cool breeze brushes past the soul formerly known as Dean Winchester. With it, it brings unbidden memories.

November and leaves and a little boy, Sammy it's Sammy how could he have forgotten Sammy, and peace.

Dean stabs the soul on the rack desperately trying to forget again, because knowing what he lost is so much worse.

Next it is the whispers. The demons around him talk of creatures invading Hell, looking for the soul of the Righteous Man. Dean laughs at them. As if anything like that could be found here. And if the Righteous Man they speak of was in Hell, well, Dean doubted there was anything left to find. Hell destroys everything it touches, because when you're forced to peer into that kind of darkness, you open yourself to it, and it invades you, takes you over until you have no choice but to become it.

Yeah, their Righteous Man was gone the moment he stepped foot in Hell. Those things will realize soon enough and leave.

They don't leave. That's what surprises Dean the most. But they're no longer whispers now. The creatures shout and scream and tear at Hell. At first, when it became clear they would not leave till they had what they came for, the demons of Hell fought them.

The new things didn't even break pace as they cut down their opposition.

Now demons are leaving these things in peace. They are too bright, too powerful to go against. That didn't stop them from trying, but higher-ups sent a message: let them get what they came for.

Every now and then some demons will band together in an attack, but none survive in the end. The rest just watch, not foolish enough to engage in battle.

Rarely, though it does happen, the fires of Hell reach one and pull it down. The creature shrieks as it burns and fades to nothing. This is enough to bolster the spirits of the demons, and the waves of attacks begin anew.

Dean cares nothing for their battles, and hopes that the fighting will leave him and his punishment in peace.

He barely gets a warning before they burst in.

Not they, but rather, where Dean had been expecting a hoard, there is only one. It's shining, nearly too bright to look at, but Dean does. Around him, several demons dissolve into dust. Then, it attacks.

It's everything the rumors claimed the invaders to be. It's screaming and wailing. The creature speaks, and around him Dean feels demons drop and shatter. They writhe at the sound, and a distant part of Dean wonders at that. He is not harmed.

Instead, he marvels. The voice is the most beautiful thing he can ever remember hearing, and it is saying his name.

"Where is Dean Winchester? Where is the Righteous Man?"

It keeps saying that, again and again, as it decimates the demons trying to tear it down. Finally, finally, it spots him in the din, and with a surge is upon him.

Uninhibited by the demons, Dean is able to get a good look at the creature for the first time. The first thing he notices is the brightness. Everything about the creature appears to shine. It would be like looking at the Sun, Dean would think, if he could remember the Sun.

The second thing he notices are the wings. There are many of them. Some are small, some are large, and they seem to be everywhere. What draws Dean's eyes though, are the main pair, arching above everything.

They are on fire.

The creature doesn't seem to have noticed, for its attention is focused solely on Dean.

Dazed, Dean doesn't notice it reaching towards him until it has already latched onto him. That's when Dean feels it. The pain that is not pain. It's a warmth that flows from it to him, breaking him down and building him back up.

For a moment, just a moment, Dean can breathe without the weight of his guilt. So he sobs. The creature clings to him, pulling him up and out of Hell.

For the first time in his life, Dean clings back.


	2. Lazarus Rising- Part 1

**Chapter 2- Lazarus Rising**

**Okay, here's another update- and so soon! Expect the story to start picking up after the next few chapters. **

**Originally, I wanted each chapter to be the equivalent of one episode, but it seems like every chapter will be very long in that case. Essentially, you have two options:**

**1. Every chapter is the length of an episode. (Picking this will mean less frequent updates)**

**2. Every episode will be split up into multiple chapters. (This will mean chapters will be shorter, but there will be more frequent updating)**

**Pick which option you would prefer. Popular vote wins.**

**Disclaimer: This site is called fanfiction. ****_Fan_**** fiction, as in, not by the creator.**

When Dean wakes up, he still thinks he's in Hell. His breath comes in gasps and he wonders what kind of new torment this is. But his mind is clearer than it's been in a long time, and the shrieks fade.

When he coughs, he realizes he has a body again. He also realizes he can't breathe.

_Where is he?_

Its too dark to tell. He scrambles around for the lighter he always keeps in his pocket, hoping against hope that it's still there. It is. He can feel it against his palm, smooth and solid and real.

One flick, two flicks and it's on. It doesn't afford him much light, but it's enough.

He's in a box.

It's getting harder to breathe.

He tries to pull in another breath, and wheezes with a throat that feels like it hasn't been used in ages. He coughs again. He needs to get out. He has to get out. _Are the walls getting smaller? Where is he? What's happened?_

"Help." It's not a yell, more of a croak. Cough.

Panic sets in. "Help, help!" The last one was more of a sob, but it's also the loudest yet.

But none of that matters, as it's clear no one can hear him. No one is there.

A second later he's banging on the roof, and it gives a little. Emboldened, he hits it again and small bits of dirt fall on his face.

Dean pushes, grabs, and pulls, and the roof snaps and crumbles down. Dirt rains in and buries Dean alive.

Dean digs his way out. His lungs are burning, but he pays it no attention. He's had worse. After Hell, it is just a mild discomfort.

Then his hand breaks the surface, and Dean pulls himself out the rest of the way.

He takes his first breath of air on a clear crisp day.

That seems to be the trigger, because once he does Dean is hit with a flood of self. His aches and pains suddenly seem much more real.

Dean groans and rolls over onto his back, trying to regain his breath. Everything hurts.

After deeming himself recovered enough, Dean stands up. His legs are steady.

It takes him a moment to realize what he is seeing. When he does he can't believe it. All around him trees are laying, toppled over, as if hit by a large blast, with his grave at the epicenter.

Damn.

Whatever happened here, it doesn't add up to anything good. Dean knows that much. He also knows that whatever caused this- it was strong.

And could still be there.

Dean glanced around. Dammit, why did the weird shit always happen to him? But he knew better than to hang around when the fugly that did this could return at any moment.

So he skedaddled out of there.

Once he broke the tree line, he found a road. Roads meant people. People meant phones. Phones meant he could call Sam.

Apparently he was farther away from civilization than he thought, because he had been walking for an hour and still hadn't come across a single living soul.

The Sun beat down around him, and so by the time he reached the first gas station in miles, his jacket was tied around his waist and sweat beaded on his forehead.

It's run-down. Or abandoned. Great. Just his luck. Dammit.

Still, when he gets to the door, he knocks. "Hello?" He rasps. His throat is killing him. Son of a _bitch_, what does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?

Still, some good can come of this. No owners means no one cares what he takes.

He wraps his jacket around his fist so when he punches through the glass door, he doesn't cut himself. The glass shatters easily.

More than a bit smug, Dean reaches in through the new hole, and unlocks the door. Immediately he makes a beeline towards the water bottles.

Dean pulls open open the freezer door and chugs a bottle of water. _Oh sweet Jesus _was that good. Now his throat doesn't feel like the Sahara.

It's been too long since he's had a drink. _Too long_. With dread, Dean realized he had been in Hell for years.

Sammy could be dead.

So when he spies a newspaper, it was only natural that he checked the date. September 18, 2008. God.

Four months. He was in Hell for _four months_. "September." It doesn't make sense.

Dean rushed to a sink and splashed his face with the cold water. He grabbed his jacket and wiped his face. Looking up in the mirror, Dean noticed something was off with his reflection.

It took him a second to realize what it was. He looked like… himself. He was in Hell. He should have been scarred beyond recognition. He was dead and buried for four months. He should be rotted.

But he wasn't. In fact, Dean thought he had never looked better. He grabbed the ends of his shirt and pulled up in disbelief. His bare chest was exposed, and Dean knew there should be scars. He had had scars on his chest even before the hellhound drug him down.

But there was nothing. His chest was completely healed, like it had never been injured in the first place.

That wasn't right. Dean's instincts were telling him that some major freaky mojo was going on.

He put his shirt down. _What the hell was going on? _

Dean let himself sag as he stared at is reflection. He slowly became aware of a faint tingling on his right arm. He peered closer at the reflection and saw a patch of red flesh partially obscured by the sleeve of his shirt. Leaning in, he peeled the sleeve upwards.

_What the hell?_

Dean found himself looking at what was, quite plainly, a handprint branded onto his bicep.

The sight pushed at something in his memory. Dean had a flash of the rack, of a brilliant light, but the memory slipped away before it could fully form.

Dean shook the feeling off. No time to dwell on it now. He needed food, and he needed to call Sam. They could figure this freaky shit out together.

Dean dug through the store's supply. He dumped lots of stuff off the shelf and into one of the plastics bags behind the register. Most of the food was junk, but Sam wasn't here right now to nag to him about rabbit food, and man was Dean starving.

He went and grabbed some water to take, munching on a chocolate bar as he did so. He was walking back when he spotted the latest issue of Busty Asian Beauties. Now there was something he had been missing. He grinned and flipped through a couple of pages before slipping it into his bag. He knew what he was doing later.

Last thing he needed was cash, then he could blow this joint. He went over to the cash register and with a push of button, the register opened with a ding.

Score. He gathered up all the money left inside. It wasn't much, but it'd be enough for some phone calls from the pay phone outside and maybe a bus fare or two.

He was still digging it out when the television set next to him came on. Dean jumped; his hunter senses were tingling. Something wasn't right.

Perturbed, he reached over to turn it off. He waited to see what would happen now. Almost immediately the radio on the counter switched itself on.

Goddammit, why does this have to happen to him now?

Dean walked across the room to the salt containers. Not wasting any time, he popped it open and headed towards the windows. Quickly, he poured the salt in a line down the window, his other hand guiding it so it didn't break.

Then an overwhelming whining began. Dean faltered, his left hand coming up to clutch his ear, while his right continued to pour the salt line. The noise only got louder, and Dean thought his ears would begin bleeding any moment.

His ears were ringing, and the ground seemed to shake under him. Dean fell, grunting in pain. He ducked down, hands over his ears, when the glass from the window exploded out. The force of the shock sent Dean sprawling to the ground. Glass crunched underneath him as he tried to regain his balance and stand up.

He managed to stumble forward a few more steps before he was knocked down again when the rest of the windows exploded.

Dean lay there for a moment. A chill went down his spine when he felt the presence of whatever-it-was dissipate. It was gone for now.

Dean let his hands drop from where they had been protecting his head. He stood up, trying not to wince as the glass bit and stung his palms. Shakily, he stumbled out of the gas station, and towards the pay phone outside.

He needed to call Sam now. Or Bobby.

Dean had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with whatever drug him out of the hotbox until much later. But now that seem so likely. If he was gonna have to deal with that thing now, well, he was way underprepared.

Dean dug a quarter out of his pocket and stuck it into the phone. Quickly, he punched in Sam's number. Dean held the phone to his ear, bouncing from foot to foot anxiously.

Almost immediately he got an alert tone and recorded message.

"We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected." Dean cursed and slammed the phone on the hook. He hung his head and had to take a deep breath.

Okay, fine. He could work with this. Sammy had a new phone? Inconvenient, but not unexpected. That just meant he'd have to call Bobby.

Dean inserted another coin into the machine and dialed Bobby's number. Again, he shifted back and forth anxiously as he waited for Bobby to pick up. At least the phone was ringing, though.

Dean's shoulders sagged with relief when he heard Bobby pick up.

"Yeah?"

Dean hadn't realized how much he had missed the other man. His throat closed up with emotion. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?" Good ole' grumpy Bobby.

"It's me." Dean. I'm back, and I missed you.

Bobby's end of the line paused for a second before the elder hunter bit out suspiciously, "Who's me?" in the same kinda tone he used when he thought Dean was being particularly foolish.

"Dean."

Dean didn't know what to expect, so he shouldn't have been surprised when Bobby hung up the phone without responding. Dean listened to the dial tone for a moment before hanging up and dialing Bobby again.

This time Bobby picked up the phone immediately. "Who is this?" He accused.

"Bobby, listen to me."

"This ain't funny. Call again and I'll kill ya." Then Bobby hung up. Dean looked at the phone for a second, then placed it back on the hook. Well, that wouldn't work. If Bobby wouldn't talk to him on the phone, then Dean would just have to visit Bobby in person.

Now, how the heck does he get there? Dean turned around, trying to see if anything was available to make the trip go faster. A bicycle, anything. Otherwise it was going to be a long hike.

That's when he saw it. A white car parked by the side of the road. Dean jogged over to it. Testing the handle, Dean was thrilled to find it was unlocked. Perfect.

He crawled in and reached under the wheel, pulling back the plastic panel to reach the wires underneath. Dean reached up and pulled the whole wire cluster down. Now that he could see them, it would be simple to hotwire. Cutting some of the wires and stripping the plastic from the ends, Dean prepared to jumpstart the car. He touched the wires together, but they only sparked.

No matter. Just try again. "Come on, come on, come on." Dean whispered under his breath.

Dean tapped the wires together again, and this time the car started. Dean looked up at the gages, and felt the corners of his mouth twitch in triumph. He could feel the machine under him come to life, and found a certain comfort in the rumble. Dean was hit with a sudden flash of nostalgia as he thought of his own baby, the Impala.

Sam better have taken care of her. Or else.

Putting the white car in gear, Dean pulled away from the gas station, and towards Bobby.

It took several hours of driving, and one pit stop for more gas and some fast food, before Dean managed to make it to Singer Salvage.

Dean slammed the car door closed and marched towards the front door. He braced himself right before he went to knock.

Like most hunters, Bobby was cautious (read: paranoid). Of course, that's what kept most hunters alive. It also meant that this reunion probably wouldn't be pretty.

Dean banged on the door.

It opened and there was Bobby. He was standing right there, in front of Dean. It took all of Dean's willpower not to collapse from the relief and happiness he felt at seeing the gruff old man again. He could've cried.

Instead, Dean stared at Bobby, and Bobby stared right back. Then Dean let out a shaky laugh. "Surprise."

"I... I don't..." Bobby backed up a couple of steps. Dean glanced away and let out a sigh.

"Yeah, me neither." He crossed the threshold. Back to business. "But here I am." Dean glanced around the house, looking at all that had changed since he'd been gone.

Not much.

And yeah, maybe he was avoiding meeting Bobby's eye.

Dean ducked his head down briefly before he lifted his head up to see Bobby's awestruck gaze. He was still giving Bobby a slight smile even as he saw Bobby's hand reach behind him for a knife.


	3. Lazarus Rising- Part 2

**Lazarus Rising- Part 2**

**Another update! And so soon! I know, I'm in shock too.**

**Okay, so the people have spoken. Each episode will be broken down into multiple chapters in favor of quick updating. **

**I also want people to realize that due to the nature of this story, it will stick very close to the original episodes in the beginning, but the farther along this story progresses, the more things will differ from their canon counterpart.**

**Just so you know.**

**Things start going differently as soon as we get to "Are You There God, It's Me, Dean Winchester".**

**Trust me, you can't wait for that ep. (and I've already got most of it already typed out, it's just a matter of editing and finalizing).**

Despite watching for the knife, Bobby moved so fast Dean almost didn't block it in time. As it was, he ended up overbalancing and stumbling. Dean recovered enough to drag Bobby around and pin him, but Bobby hadn't been hunting for as long as he had without learning more than a few tricks.

Bobby twisted in Dean's hold and elbowed him right in the face.

Son of a _bitch_ that hurt!

The force of the blow caused Dean to stumble away from the doorway and into Bobby's kitchen. Dean looked up long enough to see Bobby still coming at him. Dean glanced around to see if he could use anything to defend himself long enough to explain the situation to Bobby.

"Bobby! It's me!" Dean swung a chair around so that it was between himself and Bobby.

"My ass!" was Bobby's eloquent reply. Of course, Dean understood where Bobby was coming from. Nobody came back from the dead without serious shit going down.

Dean pushed the chair forward, putting more space between Bobby and himself. Just because he understood where Bobby was coming from didn't mean he liked the way Bobby was brandishing that knife, or the look in Bobby's eyes.

Dean stuck his hand out, the general motion for stop. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait!" He needed to convince Bobby that he was really himself, and fast. But how the hell was he supposed to do that?

Aw what the hell? Just tell him everything. "Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and... you're about the closest thing I have to a father." Dean's chest heaved from having to move so much so quickly after being dead. Luckily, though, Dean could tell that some of what he was saying got through to Bobby, because the old hunter's grip on the knife relaxed slightly as he lowered it. "Bobby. It's me."

Dean met Bobby's eyes, trying to covey to him that he was being sincere. Bobby's shoulders sagged, and he reached forward. He pushed the chair out of the way and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean closed his eyes and gave a sigh of relief.

The only warning Dean got was Bobby's fingers tightening their hold on him before Bobby's arm swung around and tried to slash at Dean again. It was only due to a lifetime of hunting that Dean's reflexes were fast enough for him to duck under and dodge the blow.

Not giving Bobby time to recover, Dean reached over and pulled the silver knife from Bobby's grip.

"I'm not a shapeshifter!" Dean huffed. While Bobby's paranoia was usually helpful, now it was very much not so.

"Then you're a Revenant!" Bobby bit out. Dean growled and pushed Bobby as far away as possible in case the man tried to come at him again. Dean held the knife out and looked Bobby dead in the eye.

"Alright. If I was either, could I do this with a silver knife?" Without taking his eyes off of Bobby, Dean rolled his sleeve up. He glanced down for a second to position the knife just above the crook of his elbow. Dean took a deep breath and braced himself as he made a shallow cut in his arm. He winced and grunted as the knife bit into the flesh. Blood beaded and trickled over his arm from the wound.

Dean gave a slight gasp as he lifted the knife away from skin and looked at Bobby defiantly. _See? It's me._

Bobby looked as if he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to believe it. He did n't want to hope that Dean was back if was just going to end up being some kind of trick. Good things didn't happen to people like him. Still, he couldn't help it.

"Dean?"

Dean shrugged "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

There was a moment where all Dean and Bobby did was stare at each other. Dean felt his heart clench when he saw the hope shining in Bobby's eyes.

No. No. No, he was_ not _going to cry dammit!

And then Dean was in Bobby's arms. Dean wrapped his arms around Bobby, and pulled him close. Dean couldn't help the relief he felt show. He had _missed_ Bobby.

Aw dammit, he was crying.

Bobby pulled away, giving Dean a once-over. "It's... it's good to see you, boy." Bobby's voice was tight with emotion. Dean would have commented on it if his own hadn't been equally constricted.

"Yeah, you too."

Bobby was looking at him funny again. The relief at Dean being alive was quickly being replaced by confusion. "But... how did you bust out?" Bobby asked him, his voice was still a little breathless.

Dean shrugged, shoulders up and tense. "I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up," he turned to look at Bobby, "in a pine box-"

Dean blinked as a cup of cold water splashed his face. One look at Bobby's sheepish expression and Dean figured out what happened. Dean lifted a hand to wipe the Holy water off his face. He shook his head and spat out some Holy water that had landed in his mouth.

Shaking the water off, Dean glared at Bobby. "I'm not a demon either, you know."

Bobby had the grace to look chastised. "Sorry. Can't be too careful."

Bobby gave Dean a 'what can you do?' gesture, and set the flask of Holy water down. They walked over to Bobby's desk where he kept all of his books on the supernatural. Dean grabbed a towel from off of one of the chairs and wiped his face with it.

Bobby turned to look at him, still bewildered. "But...that don't make a lick o'sense."

Dean let out a laugh. "Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir."

Bobby looked at Dean incredulously. "Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit -" Dean cut him off.

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject." He really didn't want to hear about how he should be rotting underground. The whole thing was giving him the heebie-jeebies.

"What do you remember?" Dean got a faraway look in his eyes then. He glanced back at Bobby and shook away the unpleasant thoughts.

"Not much." He told Bobby. "I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it." There was no reason for Bobby to know he remembered everything. Dean knew Bobby and Sam would just end up feeling guilty about it, or would start treating him like he was fragile, and Dean didn't fancy either of those options. Speaking of Sam... "Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not..." Dean hadn't even thought about Sam kicking it now that Dean wasn't there to watch his back.

Oh God. Dean hadn't been there to watch out for Sammy. Anything could've happen to the kid. He hadn't thought about it before, but now it was all he could think of. He tried not to let Bobby see how worried he was, but Bobby knew anyways.

Bobby was quick to reassure him. "Oh, he's alive. As far as I know."

"Good." Dean hoped the relief in his voice wasn't too obvious. Then something else Bobby said registered. "Wait, what do you mean, 'as far as you know'?"

Bobby looked away from him. "I haven't talked to him for months."

"You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?" Dean snapped.

Bobby got up from his seat and walked around to Dean. "He was dead set on it." He mumbled.

Dean just stared at him. "Bobby, you should've been looking after him." _Because I couldn't._

"I tried!" Bobby defended himself. "These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For him or me. We had to _bury_ you." And suddenly Dean was hit with a thought. He hadn't considered what his death had done to Sam and Bobby. He figured they'd have buried him and moved on, more or less.

He didn't realize how badly they'd missed him.

And that opened the door to another thought.

"Why did you bury me, anyway?"

Bobby shrugged and gave a little huff. "I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill." He looked at Dean meaningfully, and Dean nodded. He understood. "But...Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I'm glad he won that one." Dean commented wirily. Bobby looked at him like he was missing something.

"He said," Bobby continued meaningfully, "you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow." Bobby looked away from Dean then. "That's about all he said." He mumbled under his breath.

But Dean caught it anyway. "What do you mean?" He asked suspiciously.

"He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found." Bobby told him gently as he leaned against the desk. Naturally, one look at Bobby's face meant Dean knew just how worried Bobby really was about Sam.

Dean paced the study room floor. "Oh dammit, Sammy." He ran a hand through his hair. Slowly, Dean let his hand fall over his face.

"What?"

Dean lifted his hand from his face as he looked at Bobby incredulously. Did he really not get it? "Oh, he got me home okay, but whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

Bobby looked at him curiously. "What makes you so sure?" His voice held a trace of suspicion. Dean's blood ran cold. _Shit._ He hadn't planned on letting Bobby know about the handprint, but then Sam just had go and make a deal... _dammit_ he hadn't meant to let that slip!

Of course, now he'd have to tell Bobby, or else.

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off." Dean turned away from Bobby, trying to gather his thoughts. He turned back. "And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint." Here he hesitated. He really didn't want to tell Bobby about the brand, but he didn't have much choice. "And then this." Dean took off his jacket and rolled his sleeve up.

There was the brand, bright red against Dean's much paler skin.

Bobby stood up and peered at the brand. "What in the hell..." He breathed. He looked at Dean fearfully.

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was a like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." Dean gave Bobby a pointed look.

Bobby just shook his head. "But why?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "To hold up their end of the bargain." He said simply.

Finally Bobby seemed to catch on to where Dean was going with this. "You think Sam made a deal."

Dean shrugged. "It's what I would have done." It's what he did do.

Bobby nodded. "Well, shit. We gotta find that boy, don't we?" He looked at Dean. "Where the hell are we gonna a start? It ain't exactly easy to find that boy when he don't wanna be found."

Dean reached over to grab Bobby's phone off the hook. "Don't worry. I gotta plan." He grinned. "Watch this."

Dean started dialing the cell company. He held it up to his ear, waiting for the help desk lady to pick up.

- _Hello?_ -

He grinned and gave Bobby a thumbs up. "Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me?"

- _Of course, Sir. We'll just need your name and the last four digits of your Social Security Number in order to locate your account._ -

Dean rolled his eyes at the over enthusiastic voice on the line. "Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles."

- _And your Social?_ -

"Social is 2-4-7-4"

-_ Alrighty, everything seems to be in order. We've turned the GPS on your phone. Have a nice day!_ -

"Thank you." Dean pushed the 'End Call' button on the phone, and looked up to grin at Bobby. He flipped the phone around in his hand and smugly set it on the hook. He walked over to the computer to enter in the information.

Bobby was watching Dean in something akin to awe. "How'd you know he'd use that name?"

Dean snorted. "You kidding me? What don't I know about that kid?"

Bobby considered that for a moment before deciding that Dean had a valid point.

Dean's attention was then diverted by the browser opening up. Wasting no time, he pulled up the website for Arc Mobile and put in the information for the phone. Now he had to wait for something to pop up.

Leaning back he looked for something to do. Spying an empty liquor bottle reminded Dean of another question he wanted to ask.

"Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?" He smirked.

However, Bobby wasn't laughing. "Like I said. Last few months ain't been all that easy." He told Dean.

Dean felt the smile drop off his face. He held Bobby's gaze for a moment. "Right." Again, he had forgotten that other people would be grieving for him.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, maybe an apology, when the laptop beeped, signaling that it had located the phone.

Dean turned back to the screen.

**PHONE LOCATION:**

**263 Adams Rd.**

**Pontiac, IL**

As if Dean needed any more proof that Sam had made a deal. "Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois." He told Bobby.

Bobby looked at him. "Right near where you were planted."

"Right where I popped up." He reminded the old hunter. "Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Damn. We gotta find out just what the kid did." Dean nodded.

"I know." Dean grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled the address on it. "Come on Bobby." Tucking it in his pocket, Dean started to head out the door. He had just opened the door when he realized something. "Uh, hey Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are the keys?" Bobby chuckled and tossed Dean the keys. Dean caught them with only a mildly embarrassed grin. Dean exited the house and headed for Bobby's old truck. He unlocked it and slid in. Two seconds later Bobby was sitting shotgun.

Hours later they were in Pontiac. And not too soon either, it was nearly dark already. "Hey Bobby?" Dean asked. Up until now the ride had been relatively silent, despite the hard rock blaring from the stereos.

"Yeah Dean?"

"What was that address again?"

Bobby looked around for the slip of paper. Dean had pulled it out of his pocket a while back. Finally spotting the crumpled bit of paper, Bobby read the address, ignoring the smudged ink. "That'll be 263 Adams Rd."

Dean nodded and started looking for signs. After a few minutes, he found what he was looking for. Dean pulled the truck into the parking lot and turned to Bobby. "Here we are, 263 Adams Rd."

They were parked in front of the Astoria Motel.

Bobby looked at the motel for a moment, considering it. "You don't happen to have a room number, do ya?"

Dean snorted. "Nope. That'd be too easy." Dean killed the ignition and got out of the truck. Behind him he could hear Bobby doing the same. After making sure all the doors were locked, Dean headed into the motel.

As far as motels went, Dean had to admit the Astoria was one of the nicer ones. Of course, Dean had been in some pretty seedy motels before, so that wasn't saying much.

Approaching the front desk, Dean made sure to lay down the charm on the pretty young receptionist. She grinned at him. "Hi, and welcome to the Astoria Motel. How can I help you?" Really, what _was_ it with cheery chicks today?

Dean smiled at her. "Hey, yeah. I'm looking for my brother. His name's Wedge Antilles. I know he's checked in here, but I don't remember which room." Dean heard Bobby come up behind him. "I don't suppose you could look it up for us? Save me and Dad from the embarrassment." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Ya see, Wedge is the youngest, so he'd never let us live it down if he finds out we forgot the room number."

The receptionist, Lacey, according to her name-tag, giggled at him. "Of course Sir, right away." She tapped a few buttons on her computer and then turned to him. "Alright, you're looking for room 207. That'll be on the second floor." She smiled at Dean again. "And if there's anything else you need, just let me know." She winked.

Dean grinned at her. "Thank _you_." If everything went well with Sammy, maybe he'd take her up on that offer.

Behind him Bobby huffed and gave an annoyed grunt. "Come on you, stop flirting. We gotta get your brother." He took Dean by the shoulder and led him down the hall to the elevator. Dean laughed at Bobby's oldman-ness, but followed him anyways.

One bout of annoying elevator music later, and Dean was on the second floor. "She said 207, right Bobby?" Bobby nodded.

Dean looked around for the room numbers. As he did so, his eyebrow slowly rose. If he needed any more proof that Sammy was secretly a chick, he had it now. After all, what straight dude willingly slept in a motel where the room numbers were set in sparkly red hearts?

Dean and Bobby walked all the way down the hall when they finally got to Room 207. By this point Dean figured the only thing that could save his brother's masculinity was if he was on a hunt in this motel.

After throwing a look at Bobby, Dean knocked on the door. Almost immediately the door opened. Instead of Sam, however, Dean saw a hot chick in just a tank top and underwear. His eyebrows flew up in surprise. She looked at them expectantly.

"So where is it?" What? Dean looked to see if Bobby had any idea what was going on. Bobby just shook his head, bewildered.

"Where's what?" He asked, confused.

The chick looked at him like he was stupid. "Uh, the pizza... that takes two guys to deliver?" She added after noticing Bobby standing behind Dean. Dean glanced away from her for a second.

"Look," he told her, "I think we got the wrong room." No way did Sam have a chick over. At least, not one as hot as this one.

Before she replied though, she was interrupted. "Hey is..."

Dean's heart jumped to his throat. He knew that voice. _He knew that voice._ Oh God, Sammy. Dean just stood there, frozen, as Sam's voice trailed off as he caught sight of Dean.

Sam's eyes were wide as saucers. He looked as if he couldn't decide to stare at Dean or Bobby.

Dean swallowed. "Hey-yah Sammy." He croaked out. His adam's apple bobbed as he gave another nervous smile.

Sam just stared at him as he stepped into the room. He maneuvered himself past the chick, who was feeling left out because everyone seemed to have forgotten she existed.

Suddenly, Sam pulled a knife out and lunged at Dean. There's screaming and a whirlwind of motion as Dean blocks the attack and shoves Sam off. Then Bobby's jumping on Sam, pinning the larger man's arms behind him. Sam, though, wasn't going down easily.

"Who are you?!" Sam yelled at Dean. His face was contorted in rage as he renewed his attempts to attack Dean.

"Like you didn't do this?!" Dean scoffed. How dare Sam try and pretend he wasn't responsible!

"Do what?!" Sam was still struggling against Bobby.

Bobby could tell this wasn't going to get anywhere. Sam wasn't listening and neither was Dean. Besides, he didn't know if he could hold on to Sam much longer. "It's him!" Bobby practically shouted in Sam's ear. Sam's struggles seemed to lessen, but he didn't stop. "It's him." Bobby told him gently. "I've been through this already, it's really him."

Sam's eyes were still riveted on Dean. As Bobby's words registered, Sam stopped fighting. All of Sam's energy was gone, and Bobby was the only thing keeping him upright. "What..."

Dean took a step towards Sammy warily. When Sam didn't seem inclined to attack him again, Dean let himself smile and felt confident enough to try and joke. "I know. I look fantastic, huh?"

Sam was still staring at him with a blank look in his eyes. Dean knew that look. That was what Sam looked like when he was trying very, very hard not to let his emotions show.

Carefully, Bobby let go of Sam. Sam straighten up, and took a cautious step towards Dean. Then the floodgate opened and Sam pulled Dean into a rough hug. For the second time that day Dean felt tears welling in his eyes. He patted Sam on the back and clutched his brother close to his chest. God, _Sammy_.

Sammy, Sammy, _Sammy_. He had missed him more than anything.

After a time Sam pulled back to look at Dean properly. His arms were still holding on to Dean like he thought that if he let go he would lose Dean again.

It was then that the boys heard a timid voice coming from the forgotten woman by the door. "So, are you two like...together?" She sounded scared and confused.

Dean and Sam practically jumped apart. Dean was glad to see he wasn't the only one who had forgotten the chick. Sam blink for a second as he gathered his thoughts. Then what the girl asked finally registered in his big Stanford brain.

His faced screwed up in disgust. "What? No! No. He's my brother." Sam explained. Or, well, tried to. The hot chick didn't seem like she believed him.

"Uh, got it. I- I guess." She looked back and forth between them. Dean suddenly realized he and Sam were still standing awfully close, and he quickly became self-conscious about it. "Look, I should probably go." The lady told Sam. Dean noted that she didn't seem too upset about the entire display she saw, mostly just confused.

Sam winced in embarrassment, but he couldn't deny that he needed to talk with Dean. "Yeah, yeah that's probably for the best." He told her apologetically. He reached over to the sofa and retrieved a white button-down and a blue plaid shirt. Sam put the white shirt on and buttoned it up. He handed the plaid shirt to the girl, who also began to button it up. Awkwardly, Sam led the girl to the door.

As she was about to leave, the girl turned to look back at Sam. "So... call me?" She asked hopefully. Dean tried not to laugh at that. They'd probably never see her again.

Sam, who was still very distracted, turned to look back at her. Dean had to stop himself from laughing because Sam looked like he just noticed that she was still here. Sam gave the girl a tight smile.

"Yeah, sure thing Kathy."_ So that was the girl's name then._

Kathy frowned. "Kristy." She corrected him. Oh boy Sammy, smooth moves kid.

"Right." Sam said, ready for Kathy- Kristy- whatever-her-name-was to leave already so he could talk with his awesome, super cool, fun loving brother.

Alright, maybe not the last bit, but Dean knew Sam was just as eager to talk to him and Dean himself was.

Once Kristy had finally left, Sam closed the door and turned back to Dean. He walked over to where Dean was leaning against the couch in the room and sat down. Dean was looming above Sam with his arms crossed. Now that Kristy was gone, Sam had some major explaining to do.

"So tell me- what'd it cost?" He glared at his brother.

Sam looked up, smiling. "The girl? I don't pay Dean." Sam tried to look innocent, but Dean could see the tightness around his eyes. Sam knew damn well what he was talking about.

Dean grunted. "That's not funny, Sam." He tried not to raise his voice too much. "To bring me back," he explained, though he knew Sam didn't need him to, "what'd it cost? Was is just your soul, or was it something worse?" He demanded.

Sam blinked. "You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby cut in.

Sam glared at them. "Well, I didn't."

Dean had had enough. Sam needed to take responsibility for his actions before this came to bite them in the butt. "Don't lie to me." He spat, getting in Sam's face in the process.

"I'm not lying." Sam ground out, angry at Dean's accusations.

Dean menaced forwards. "So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this!" He growled.

Sam snapped and jumped to his feet. "Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?!" Sam admitted.

Dean surged forward and grabbed the front of Sam's shirt roughly. "There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!" Dean barked out in the military tone their Dad had taught them. Nobody would dare lie to him when he used that tone of voice.

Angrily Sam shoved himself away from Dean, forcing Dean to break his hold on Sam. "I tried everything. That's the truth." He gasped out, feeling both angry and guilty. "I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right?" Sam took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was laden with guilt. "You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it." He looked up to see Dean looking at him in sympathy. "So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean's heart went out to his brother at that moment. Sammy looked like he was about to start crying again. _God I'm an ass._ Dean really wished people would tell him when he was doing that.

"It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you." Dean said, softly.

There was a moment of silence between the brothers before Bobby felt the need to disturb the peace. "Don't get me wrong," he started, "I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question."

Dean knew exactly where Bobby was headed, and nodded. "If he didn't pull me out, then what did?"

Everyone got quiet at that.

Dean went over to Sam and sat on the couch beside him. After a second of deliberation Bobby also went to sit on the couch.

Dean leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Slowly, he leaned back, running his hand over his face. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Damn._ If Sam didn't bring me back, what did?_ Dean couldn't think of anything good that would. He wondered what it would want from him in return for saving him from the Pit.

Sam got up off the couch. Dean turned his head to question him, but Sam waved him off. Dean closed his eyes when he heard Sam starting to rummage around in the kitchen.

A few minutes later Sam returned with a beer for everybody. Dean cracked his open and looked at Sam, who had taken a seat across from him. "So... what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me outta my grave?" He asked.

Sam shrugged. "Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith- trying to get some payback." He said it so simply, so straightforward, that Dean was a bit taken aback. As it was, he felt bad for Sam. He wished the kid didn't have to go through all this shit.

While Dean wasn't mad that Sam went out after Lilith, Bobby had other thoughts on the matter. "All by yourself. Who do you think you are- your old man?" The 'idjit' was heavily implied.

Dean looked away, hoping to avoid the impending argument, when something across the room caught his eye. Ignoring both Bobby and Sam, Dean got up to investigate. He vaguely heard Sam tell Bobby, "Uh, yeah, I'm sorry Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up." Dean snorted, especially when he could clearly see now what had diverted his attentions.

Dean reached down and picked up the pink floral bra. "Oh yeah," Dean told Sam sarcastically, "I really feel your pain." He looked again at the bra and raised his brow.

Sam blushed and scowled at his older brother.

"Anyways... I, uh, was chasing these demons out of Tennessee, and outta no where they took a hard left and booked it up here." He explained the hunt.

Dean tried to focus and get his mind off of the owner of that bra. "When?" He turned to ask Sam, throwing the bra aside as he did.

"Yesterday morning."

Dean sucked in a breath. _It seems like demons are involved after all._ Sam caught his expression and gave him an odd face. "When I busted out." He explained.

Bobby looked at him sharply. "You think these demons are here 'cause of you?"

"But why?" Sam asked.

Dean paced. "Well, I don't know- some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow." No way in Hell it wasn't.

Unfortunately, that reminded Bobby of his maybe-possession. "How you feeling anyway?" He asked Dean shrewdly.

Dean shrugged. "I'm a little hungry," he told him.

Bobby rolled his eyes at him. "No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?"

Dean smirked. Oh sure, plenty of him was feeling different, not that he'd tell Bobby that. "Or demonic?" He asked, finishing Bobby's train of thought. "Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?" He asked, only a little hurt.

Bobby waved him away. "Yeah, well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned."

Dean kinda sorta already figured that. Didn't mean he wanted to talk about it any more now than he did then. "Well, I feel fine," he told Bobby pointedly.

Sam cut in there before Dean's stubbornness and Bobby's paranoia caused them to end up discussing Dean's possible possession case for hours more. "Okay, look. We don'y know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel." Sam had found that with Dean and Bobby it was always best to get straight to the point. "We need help." He told them.

He half expected Dean and Bobby to tell him that they didn't need help and could take care of this themselves, so Dean could see Sam was taken a little off-guard when Bobby considered what Sam had said.

"I know a psychic." He told Sam. "A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

Dean nodded. A psychic could be useful, no matter that it brought up less-than-pleasant memories. "It's worth a shot." Dean said, which was as close as Bobby and Sam were gonna get to getting him to agree.

Bobby nodded. "I'll be right back." He got up and left the room so he could call his psychic friend.

Dean stood up as well. He needed to use the bathroom. Before he could get anywhere though, Sam got up too. "Hey wait," Sam put a hand on his arm to stop him. Dean turned to look at him, and made sure his expression was clearly asking: _what the Hell do you want?_

Sam dug around in his pocket before finally pulling out a black chord. And attached to that chord was an amulet.

Dean's amulet.

Sam reached out and placed it in Dean's palm. Dean looked at it, overcome with emotion. He let his fingers curl around it. He looked up at Sam. "Thanks." He said, quietly.

Sam looked away, embarrassed. "Yeah, don't mention it."

Dean lifted the necklace up and put it on. It felt right. He fingered the amulet for a moment, glad he had it back.

Until Sam decided to ruin the moment. "Hey Dean, what was it like?" Dean looked at Sammy when he said his name. It took a second for Dean to realize what Sam was asking about.

Hell.

Dean gave Sammy a grin that appeared more like a grimace. "What, Hell?" He couldn't tell Sammy the truth. Sam had no business knowing that Dean could remember everything. The poor kid felt bad enough already. "I don't know." He told him. "I, I must have blacked it out." He looked Sam straight in the eyes. "I don't remember a damn thing." He told him, and the look on his face made it perfectly clear that that was all he was going to say on the subject.

Thankfully, Sam seemed to buy it. "Well, thank God for that." He smiled.

Guilt writhed in Dean's chest seeing Sam smiling. But it was worth it.

"Yeah." Dean agreed.

Now that Sam's worry had been assuaged, Dean was able to retreat to the bathroom in peace.

Dean found himself standing in front of the sink, borderline hyperventilating. Damn. The whole encounter with Sammy was bringing back bad memories. _Get a grip, man!_

Dean stared at his reflection. It was funny- after all the time he had spent in Hell, he had forgotten what he had looked like.

_He was pinned to the table. Barbed wires wrapped around his wrists and ankles, holding him down. A huge meathook impaled itself in his shoulder, ripping and tearing though the flesh as he writhed in pain. _

_That only made it worse._

_Dean knew that he didn't really have a body here. That it was just how he was seeing things, but knowing that didn't help the pain any. _

_He lifted his tired, pain-filled eyes when he felt a figure approaching. It was a man-but-not-a-man. A demon._

_The demon smirked at him, it's mouth curled upwards as white eyes danced in mirth. Black, inky, smoke whirled around the demon._

_Dean's eyes followed the demon as it walked over to a tray of torture instruments that Dean swore hadn't been there a second ago. _

_Finally deciding on a wicked-looking scythe, the demon sauntered up to him. _

_Dean surged backwards, trying to get as far from the demon as possible. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, mad with fear and pain._

Dean blinked. He was back in the motel with Sam and Bobby. He was out of Hell.

"Dammit." He muttered. Forgetting Hell was going to be harder than he thought.


	4. Lazarus Rising- Part 3

**Lazarus Rising- Part 3**

**Hey, another update! I almost thought I would never finish this in time. Okay, this is the final chapter involving Episode 1. After this chapter things begin to deviate from the original timeline.**

**I know it's long, but this about how long chapters will be, roughly 5,000-6,000 words each, maybe more, maybe less depending.**

**As of right now, all rights to Supernatural and their affiliates are disclaimed.**

They debated spending the night at Astoria Motel, but eventually Bobby won out with the argument that the sooner they left, the sooner they could meet Bobby's psychic friend and therefore the sooner they could figure out just what the heck pulled Dean out and what it wanted with them.

The cheery receptionist, Lacey, was still at her post, and waved to them as Sam checked out. She looked at Dean and pursed her lips in disappointment. "I guess you're leaving, huh?"

Dean smirked. "Yeah, family emergency. Have to book right out of town." Lacey sighed in regret.

"Pity. Hope your family's okay."

Dean looked down, solemn. "Yeah, me too." His voice was barely over a whisper. Realizing he was killing the mood, Dean cleared his throat and winked at the receptionist. "Too bad I couldn't take you up on your offer of assistance."

She giggled. "You and me both, hun."

Their flirting was interrupted by Sam, who had gotten tired of his brother wasting time. "Dean, come on, we gotta go."

Dean waved him off, not breaking eye contact with Lacey. "Yeah, just give me a minute."

"Bobby's gonna leave without us."

Dean grumbled and faced Sam. "Alright, fine. One sec." He turned back to Lacey. "And that'd be my cue to leave. See ya sweet-cheeks." He gave her a roguish grin and winked again. Lacey giggled and made a shooing motion.

"Away with you. Shoo!" She laughed. Dean shook his head and smiled. He trotted off to catch up with Sam and Bobby.

When he did he caught Sam's eye. Sam took one glance at him and rolled his eyes at Dean's behavior. Dean let out a huff of amusement and playfully bumped Sam. Sam ignored him.

They followed Bobby down the steps to the parking lot where Bobby's truck and the Impala were. Bobby turned to them. "She's about four hours down the Interstate. Try to keep up." With that Bobby walked over to his truck and got in. A few seconds later and he was driving off.

Sam and Dean walked over to the Impala. "I'll assume you want to drive." Sam asked Dean with a smirk. He tossed the keys to the Impala at Dean.

Dean caught them without even having to look. Joy overtook his features as he started laughing. "Oh, I almost forgot!" Smiling wide, Dean ran his hand lovingly over the hood and down the side of the Impala. "Hey sweetheart," he crooned, "did ya miss me?" He patted the door.

Dean unlocked the Impala and settled in the driver's seat. It was good to be back. He sat there for a moment, not doing anything but cataloging everything about the Impala. Seemed like Sammy did what he asked and had taken good care of Dean's baby.

_Wait, what is that...?_

Oh no he didn't.

Dean frowned at the offending item. He shifted to frown at Sam as the younger man got in the shotgun seat. "What the hell is that?" He demanded, pointing.

Sam smiled innocently at him. "That's an iPod jack." He told him cheerfully.

Dean scowled. "You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up."

Now Sam was frowning. "Dean, I thought it was my car." Naturally that brought Dean up short. Right, he had been dead. It was surprisingly hard to remember that. But still... Dean sneered at Sam and shook his head. Nope, the Impala was Dean's and Dean's only. Even if he wasn't here, Sam was only borrowing her. She wasn't Sam's baby.

Dean supposed he could forgive Sammy for it this time, but Sam better not think he could pull something like this again. Shaking his head at Sam, he turned the key in the ignition.

_- You know that you're the only one for me, yeah... - _came through the radio.

Hell no.

Dean rolled his eyes at the song Sam had left playing. He gave his brother a significant look._ Never again. _

"Really?" Dean glared at his brother. Sam shrugged. Frustrated, he ripped the iPod out of the jack and threw it into the backseat. Not willing to talk to Sam, the traitor, Dean went ahead and pulled out of the parking lot.

They drove for about forty-five minutes before they started talking again. Dean hesitated. The ride was giving him plenty of time to think about the questions he wanted to ask Sam, and one thing in particular was bothering him.

Dean debated for a moment on whether or not he wanted to bring it up. After all, he and Sam had only just reunited, did he really want to bring up stuff that could cause a rift between them?

He decided that, yeah, they needed to talk.

"There's still one thing that's bothering me." Dean started. He didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, the night I bit it...," he started, "or got bit." He chuckled at his own wit. _That was a perfect opportunity_. Sam however didn't seem amused. _Right, I was dead. _Dean reminded himself. He sobered up. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you." He tried to ask the question lightly so it didn't seem so much like an interrogation.

Sam shrugged. "She tried. She couldn't." _What? That didn't make a lick of sense._ Dean could tell Sam obviously didn't want to talk about it, but dammit, this was a big deal. Whatever stopped Sam from getting roasted by Lilith and whatever pulled Dean out could be connected!

"What do you mean, she couldn't?" Dean asked crossly.

Sam leaned back, defensive. "She fired this, like, burning light at me, and..." He held up his hands hopelessly, "didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?" Dean didn't know if he believed that Sam didn't have any idea about why Lilith's superpowers didn't work. Besides, it was sounding like it was part of Sam's freaky demon blood powers.

"Yeah," Sam smirked, "I don't know who was more surprised, her or me." Seeing that Dean wasn't taking this to be a laughing matter, Sam got serious. "She left pretty fast after that."

Dean leaned back in his seat and turned back to focus on the road. "Huh." A moment passed. "What about Ruby, where is she?"

Sam shrugged. "Dead. For now." He added. Neither he nor Dean believed that that was the last they would see of the she-demon.

Dean had one more question he wanted to ask Sam, but he didn't know if he wanted to know the answer. He chewed on his lip a bit, debating on what to ask. Eventually he gave in and asked the question he had wanted to ask all along. "So... you been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?"

He waited for Sam's answer.

"No."

Sam's answer was quick and sharp. Dean couldn't tell if Sam was lying to him or not. "You sure about that?" Dean quickly realized how that would sound to Sam, and tried to clarify. "Well, I mean, now that you've got...immunity, whatever the hell that is...just wondering what other kinds of weirdo crap you've got going on." Dean sighed in frustration. That came out all wrong and now Sam was pissed at him.

"Nothing Dean." Sam snapped, annoyed that his brother didn't seem to trust him. "Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish." If there was a hint of guilt in Sam's voice, Dean didn't hear it.

Dean considered Sam's speech, and finally let himself relax. He believed him. "Yeah, well, let's keep it that way."

Sam looked at his brother, still irritated.

The car ride was uncomfortably silent after that.

After a few more hours of driving, Dean and Sam met up with Bobby.

"Alright idjits, Pamela's house is fairly close, but given the current time," Bobby looks up at the pitch black sky, "I don't suggest interrupting her sleep. You can either check into a motel, or stay out here. Your choice." With that, Bobby got back in his truck and settled down to sleep. Apparently he wasn't going to bother with motels.

Dean faced Sam. "So, motel or car?"

Sam slumped. "Let's just stay in the Impala. It's been a long day." Dean nodded. That it had. It suddenly hit Dean that just this morning he rose from the dead. Long day indeed.

When they woke up, Bobby led them to the psychic's house. It was a decent house, Dean decided. It was in the middle of a suburb area, and looked like a nice place. They walked up to the front porch; Dean behind Bobby and Sam behind him. Bobby knocked loudly on the door.

Immediately the door opened to reveal a rather pretty woman. Dean already liked her. He could tell she was someone with sass. She'd have to be, to have Bobby speak so well of her.

"Bobby!" Pamela exclaimed. To Dean and Sam's surprise, she hugged the gruff hunter, even going so far as to lift him off his feet. Dean turned to Sam, eyebrows raised: _Did you see that coming?,_ only to find Sam giving him the same look: _No way, dude_.

To further their surprise, Bobby laughed and smiled back at the psychic. "You're a sight for sore eyes." He told Pamela affectionately. Pamela stepped back, letting Bobby go. She looked at Sam and Dean, assessing them.

"These the boys?" She asked.

Bobby gestured to them. "Sam, Dean. This is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state." He told them proudly. Dean smirked.

"Hey." The greeted Pamela, shamelessly flirting with her.

Sam, however, was incredibly awkward. "Hi."

Pamela glanced over to him before shifting all her focus on Dean. "Mmhmm, Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back into the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual." She said, shamelessly flirting back.

Dean gave her a real smile then. It was always nice when other people played along. "If you say so," he said smoothly.

Pamela laughed. "Come on in." She moved out of the doorframe and gestured them inside. Sam had to duck so he wouldn't hit his head on the low doorframe. Gently, he closed the door behind them. Dean looked around the house.

The décor was actually pretty nice. The furniture all matched and everything. He also noted that while it did look like this place was the home to a psychic, it also could pass as a normal household for a regular woman. It was very nice. Dean liked it.

Behind him, Bobby was chatting with Pamela. "So, you hear anything?" He asked.

Pamela shook her head. "Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why." She shrugged helplessly and walked closer to where Dean was standing.

"So what's next?" Bobby asked.

Pamela stopped. She tilted her head and thought about it. "A séance, I think." She decided. "See if we can see who did the deed."

That made Bobby nervous. "You're not going to... summon the damn thing here?" He was looking at Pamela warily.

To his relief Pamela laughed. "No." She grinned and said conspiratorially, "I just wanna get a sneak peak at it. Like a crystal ball, without the crystal." Again she smiled. Dean thought she had a nice smile. He could see them becoming friends.

"I'm game." Dean butted in to the conversation. Apparently that was all that needed to be said on the matter. They were gonna have a séance.

Now despite being a hunter nearly all of his life, this was the first time Dean had actually participated in a séance like this. So he really didn't know all what to expect. Pamela pushed past him to get a tablecloth resting behind him. It was black with symbols all over it. She moved around him to get to a small table, and she threw the cloth over it. Dean eyed it warily, and could see Sam doing the same. Next Pamela went into the kitchen behind Dean and squatted to get to one of the cabinets there. Dean watched her as she rummaged around for supplies. Pamela shifted and Dean got quite a lovely view of a tattoo. It took him a second to read the curly script.

_Jesse Forever_

Dean raised his eyebrows. It didn't seem like Pamela had a significant other, but who knows. "Who's Jesse?" He asked.

Pamela looked up from what she was doing and snorted. "Well, it wasn't forever." She laughed. Dean couldn't help but smile at the irony of it. What, couldn't she see it was going to end? She was supposed to be psychic. Dean shook his head at his thoughts. Psychic powers didn't work like that, he knew, but that didn't make it any less fun to poke at.

"His loss." He told Pamela, back to flirting with her.

Pamela pulled back with several candles clutched in her grasp. She walked past Dean, swaying her hips as she did so. She stopped right before she had to walk past him. She turned and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Might be your gain." She said, adding a suggestive smirk, before sauntering off.

Dean lit up and turned to Sam excitedly. "Dude, I am so in!" He tried not to raise his voice in excitement. His whole body was practically humming. Pamela was awesome.

Sam, though, was watching Pamela uneasily. "She's gonna eat you alive." He decided. _And not in the fun way. _

Dean however, took that to be a challenge. "Hey, I just got outta jail. Bring it." If he could survive Hell, it was gonna take more than a fiery psychic to take him down.

Just then Pamela walked past them again. She stopped and said to Sam with a wink, "You're invited too Grumpy." She walked away.

Dean scowled. "You are not invited." He told Sam harshly. He so did not need his little brother to be a buzzkill.

A little later they finished getting everything set up. Pamela then ushered them to their seats. Dean was seated next to Pamela, Bobby was next to him, and Sam next to him. They each sat at one point of the compass. Though the table was round, Dean still got the sense that Pamela somehow was managing to sit at the head.

Pamela reached over at lit each of the six candles in the center of the table. "Right." She instructed them. "Take each other's hands." Dean reached out and grasped Pamela and Bobby's hands. "I need to touch something our mystery monster touched." She told Dean pointedly. Suddenly, Pamela had a smile flit across her face. Dean had a second to wonder what she was thinking of when he felt a hand brush the inside of his thigh.

He jumped. Oh no. Not here, lady.

"Whoa, he didn't touch me there." He stuttered out nervously. Dean could practically feel the sweat beading on his forehead.

Pamela just smirked at him. "My mistake." She said coyly.

There was a pause. Dean sat there, wondering why nobody was doing anything, when he realized they were waiting for him to do something. _Something he touched..._

Dammit. Sam wasn't gonna like this.

Hesitantly, nervously, Dean removed his outer shirt. Slowly, he lifted up his sleeve to reveal the brand. He avoided meeting Sam's eye. He could practically feel Sam staring at him and it. Thankfully, Pamela was being very professional about it all, so she didn't say anything as she gently placed a hand on it.

Dean shivered. It felt weird to have someone touch it. It didn't feel wrong, per se, but it wasn't comfortable.

Pamela closed her eyes. Dean and everybody else followed suit. "Okay." Pamela whispered, taking a breath. Then she began to chant.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." At each repetition, her voice got louder and took on a more unearthly tone.

Dean's eyes snapped open when the television in the corner turned itself on, the static noise it was making getting louder with Pamela's chanting. Dean's heart raced. This was exactly like what happened at the gas station. He was coming...

Pamela continued to chant, oblivious to the electronics going haywire around her. "I invoke, conjure, and command..." She trailed off. "Castiel?" She sounded surprised. "No, sorry Castiel, I don't scare easy." She told the creature haughtily. If Dean was paying attention, he would have admired her for her balls of solid steel.

As it was, Dean was incredibly distracted. "Castiel?" He asked. The name sounded so familiar.

_A bright light overtook the torture room he was in. The demons around him shrieked in terror as the light cut through them mercilessly. He became aware of a voice in the room. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. It was like a thousand voices overlapping each other to create a beautifully haunting melody._

_But what brought him to tears was that it was saying his name._

_"Dean Winchester. You are the righteous man." It told him. Yes, that was his name. He was Dean Winchester._

_He had nearly forgotten that._

_The bright creature approached him. "I am Castiel. You are safe now, Dean." The light became overwhelming, and Dean struggled to focus on Castiel. The glowing increased to the point where it was blinding. There was a sudden warmth stemming from what used to be his shoulder._

_Then Dean felt light. So light. Floating effortlessly up and out..._

Pamela spoke, and the memory slipped from Dean's fingers and into the nether. "It's name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back."

Dean felt the table begin to shake under him. An intense whining was reverberating around the room. Pamela kept chanting.

"I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I conjure and command you, show me your face." Dean was getting nervous. They really shouldn't be doing this.

He didn't know how or why, but he knew trying to look at Castiel would be a bad idea.

Apparently he wasn't the only one. Bobby spoke up, the waver in his voice belying the confidence he was trying to give off. "Maybe we should stop."

But Pamela was stubborn. Maybe to stubborn for her own good. "I almost got it." She barked back, riding an adrenaline high. "I command you, show me your face!" There was a pause, and then Pamela shouted at the top of her lungs, "Show me your face! Now!"

Dean watched in horror as the flame of the candles jumped. The fire roared, but it wasn't enough to drown out Pamela's screaming. Dean couldn't look away from the bright white light pouring from Pamela's eye sockets. Just as suddenly as it started, the rattling stopped, the electronics turned back off, and the flames died. Pamela collapsed on the ground.

Bobby dashed forward to grab her before her head hit the floor. "Call 9-1-1!" He shouted.

Behind him, Sam scrambled out of his chair and into the next room to get the telephone. Dean hoped it hadn't been destroyed by Castiel's presence in the room.

Dean ran over to crouch next to Bobby. A quick glance told him that, while bleeding and severely burned, Pamela was still alive, and though in pain, was thankfully conscious. He didn't expect her eyes to be in good shape, but it still took him by surprise when her eyelids flew open to reveal black, empty sockets. A small part of Dean, in the back of his mind, noted that the sockets looked cauterized, so infection wasn't likely.

Pamela gasped and started sobbing. "I can't see! I can't see! Oh God. " She shouted, terrified. She sobbed as Bobby tried in vain to soothe her. In the other room, Dean could hear Sam talking to the 9-1-1 operator, asking for an ambulance.

Finally Pamela had quieted. Dean looked over to see her slumped unconscious in Bobby's arms. Either sleep claimed her, or the pain had. Either one, Dean felt bad for her. She would be fine if they hadn't gone to her to get a sneak peak at Castiel.

Sam walked into the room, a cordless phone resting limply in his hand.

"They coming?" Dean asked gruffly, not turned to look at his brother.

"Yeah," Sam let out a breath.

"What'd you tell 'em?" He asked, finally getting up off the floor to help Sam straighten up the room. And by 'straighten up' he meant 'stage to look like an accident occurred here and not supernatural shit'.

"I told them the truth." Sam told him. Dean's head snapped to stare at Sam, giving him the best 'what the hell, dude?' look he could manage. Sam held up his hands in surrender, "Well, a version of it. I told him that we were performing a séance when the candles flared and Pamela caught fire." Dean let his shoulders sag.

"Dude, you scared me for a second." He told Sam. Telling them they were doing a séance wouldn't matter, because no one would believe that it was real. Sometimes skeptics could be real handy.

"Come on Dean, trust me will ya?" Dean just shook his head. He was exhausted all of a sudden.

"Come on, let's burn this place up." He and Sam proceeded to burn parts of the tablecloth and then doused the entire thing with water. Bobby was busy giving Pamela first aid.

Dean and Sam were standing awkwardly around Pamela when the paramedics arrived. While Pamela was being loaded into the ambulance, Bobby approached them.

"Look, I'll ride with her to the ER. You boys go get something to eat, I'll make sure she gets proper care. I'll call when she gets settled." He told them solemnly. Dean nodded.

"Alright. We'll be nearby." Then he gently led Sam out of the house.

Sam sighed as they got in the Impala. "I can't believe that just happened." He confessed.

Dean grunted. "Yeah, me neither." He stared straight ahead and put the car in drive.

Sam tried once again to initiate conversation. "Look, Dean, Pamela's gonna be-"

"Don't even finish that Sammy. I don't wanna talk about it."

Sam tried not to flinch. "Well, what about that brand. Did you see what that thing-"

Again, Dean cut him off. "I said, I don't wanna talk about it."

With a hard jerk, Dean pulled into the parking lot of a local diner. Johhny Mac's, Dean noted. He strode in, not even sparing a glance at the pretty waitress.

Dean dropped into the booth, and waited impatiently for Sam to catch up. Almost as soon as Sam sat down, the waitress came up to take their order.

"Can I help you?" She asked, trying to be enthusiastic about her dead-end job. Dean grunted.

"I want two slices of your best pie. One for me and my brother." He told her.

She smiled at him. "Be up in a jiff." Then she strolled off to the kitchen to deliver their order to the cook.

Sam was talking with Bobby on the phone. "You bet." He told Bobby. Sam hung up and looked at Dean.

"What's Bobby say?" Dean asked Sam impatiently.

Sam tucked his phone away. "Pam's stable...And out of ICU." He added.

"And blind, because of us." Dean added bitterly with more than a little guilt.

Sam was in an optimistic mood when he oh-so-helpfully added "And we still have no clue who we're dealing with."

Now, Dean wasn't about to let it be implied Pamela's sacrifice was all for nought. "That's not entirely true." He pointed out.

"No?" Sam questioned skeptically.

"We got a name. Castiel, or whatever." Dean explained. And Sammy was supposed to be that smart one. "With the right mumbo-jumbo we could summon him, bring him right to us."

Sam gaped at him. "You're crazy." He decided. "Absolutely not."

Dean shrugged. "We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?" Dean felt Castiel would help them. After all, with all the effort the dude went through to bust him out of the hotbox, he probably didn't want Dean to get roasted prematurely.

Sam still clearly though Dean was an idiot. "Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you want to have a face to face?" Sam clearly thought that Dean would burn up like Pam, but Dean had already survived one encounter with the guy, and he came out relatively unscathed. Sure he got a handprint-shaped burn, but it could have been worse. Besides...

"You got a better idea?" He asked Sam.

He wasn't exactly expecting an answer. But Sam was being uncooperative. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I do." He told Dean smugly. "I followed some demons to town, right?" Dean didn't know where Sam was going with this, but so far it wasn't sounding like Sam's idea was any better than Dean's.

"Okay." He said, when Sam wasn't saying anything. _Get to the point, Sam_, went unsaid, but not unheard.

"So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something." Sam reasoned.

Just then the waitress arrived with their pie. Perfect timing. Sam thanked her, but the waitress didn't leave.

Dean shifted awkwardly. She then pulled over a chair and sat in it, staring at Dean and Sam intently.

Now normally Dean appreciated women being forward with him, but this chick was seriously beginning to creep him out.

He needed to shake her. Now.

"You anglin' for a tip?" He smirked and asked knowingly.

The girl cocked her head to the side. "I'm sorry." She said smoothly. "I thought you were looking for us." Just then her eyes shifted black, and Dean felt himself seize up.

Looking around Dean was dismayed to find that every single person there aside from Sam and himself was a demon. Well crap. This day was going great, wasn't it?

Dean glared at the demon-waitress. Her eyes went back to normal. She leaned back in her chair now, assessing him.

"Dean." she said admiringly. "To Hell and and back. Aren't you a lucky duck." She commented mildly.

Dean knew that tone of voice, though. She was working an angle. She wanted something from him. "That's me." He replied.

"So you just get to stroll out of the pit, huh?" She said accusingly. "Tell me." She leaned in. "What makes you so special?" She asked, barely speaking above a whisper.

Dean crossed his arms. He knew how to play this game "I like to think it's because of my perky nipples." He told her smartly. Then his eyes darkened as they got serious. "I don't know. Wasn't my doing, I don't know who pulled me out." He leaned back, letting her know that he was done with this conversation.

"Right." She said semi-skeptically. "You don't." She gave him a tight smile.

"No. I don't." He agreed.

"Lying's a sin, you know." She said, clearly trying to bait him, but Dean wasn't falling for it, especially when he _didn't_ have the information they wanted.

"I'm not lying." He told her, "But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me," he looked down to read her name-tag "Flo..." He trailed off, waiting for the demon to reveal some info he could use.

Flo's eyes narrowed. "Mind your tone with me, boy." She snarled. "I'll drag you back to Hell myself." She threatened. Sam sat up, knife in hand, ready to fight. Dean held up a hand to stop him. Reluctantly Sam settled back into the seat, but he kept the knife out.

Dean smiled at the demon. _Gotcha._

He settled in his seat, relaxed as could be, surrounded by demons. "No, you won't." He declared confidently.

Flo paused in surprise from where she had been menacing in. "No?" She drew back a bit.

"No." Dean affirmed. He continued, figuring an explanation was in order. "Because if you were, you would have done it already." He leaned forward, getting in 'Flo's' face. "Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers." Dean backed off and shrugged at Flo helplessly. "Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Or, uh, Godzilla." He said sarcastically. "Or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at _your _pay grade that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you." He said deadly quiet. "So go ahead. Send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose." By the end of his mini-speech Dean was speaking at a near whisper, his voice cold and harsh.

The demon stared at him in hatred. "I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs." She told him.

Dean smirked and leaned forward, getting up in her face. A challenge was clear in his eyes. Suddenly, he threw a right hook and punched her in the face. When she didn't do anything, he threw another punch. Still, the demon didn't attack.

"That's what I thought." He said, pleased with himself. The demon's glare was fading into something akin to nervousness. "Let's go, Sam." He ordered. Dean got up from the table and made to walk away. Almost as an afterthought, he slapped a ten dollar bill on the table. "For the pie." He told the fuming demons cheekily.

As soon as they exited the diner Dean et out an incredulous breath. "Holy crap, that was close." He gave a slightly hysterical laugh as his nerves decided now would be the perfect time to hit.

Sam chased after Dean. "We're not just going to leave them in there, are we, Dean?" He asked when he caught up.

Dean looked at him like he was crazy. "Well, yeah," he said plainly, like the thought of taking out the demons in there hadn't even crossed his mind yet, "there's three of them, probably more, and we've only got one knife between us." As much as Dean'd love to gank some demons, he wasn't stupid.

Sam looked at him, trying out bitchface #24. "I've been killing a lot more demons than that lately." Yeah, well, Dean thought, that's just reckless. Were you trying to be suicidal Sammy?

But Dean didn't let Sam see what he was thinking. "Not anymore-," he told Sam with a cheeky grin, "the smarter brother's back in town." He said proudly.

"Dean, we've got to take 'em. They're dangerous." Sam insisted.

Dean rounded on his brother. "They're scared. Okay? Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out. We're dealing with a bad mofo here. One job at a time." Then, after the figure this shit out, they could go back and gank those demons.

Dean got into the driver's side of the Impala and blasted an AC/DC tape. Dean started jammin' and ignored the looks Sam was giving him. The kid was pissed, he knew, but he'd realize that Dean was right eventually.

It was a long drive back to the Astoria Motel.

Sam and Dean walked into the motel reception area. This time the person behind the desk was a short man with greasy hair and acne-ridden face. Dean wished Lacey was the receptionist today.

After checking in, Dean claimed one of the beds while Sam puttered around the room setting up wards, salt lines, etc. Dean looked up from where he was flopped on the bed to see a giant mirror stuck to the ceiling right above the bed. He didn't know if he wanted to grimace and grin wolfishly at that.

Exhausted by the day's events, Dean got up to watch some TV, maybe read a magazine. He sat down in a chair across from the television. Almost immediately, though, he fell asleep.

Luckily, Dean was a fairly light sleeper. So when the TV turned itself on, it woke Dean up. He blinked wearily at it, and reached up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. _What...? _The radio also turned itself on, drawing Dean's attention to it.

Castiel was here.

If that was a good or bad thing he had yet to decide. Dean had to keep reminding himself that Castiel may not be, almost certainly wasn't, on their side.

The whining began to increase in pitch. Dean clutched his ears and rolled over to grab a shotgun. Then he remembered. _Sam! Where was Sam?_

Dean's eyes flicked around the room. No sign of Sammy. Dean made a face. If that kid had just wandered off without letting Dean know, they's be having words later.

The energy in the room had increased exponentially. Things were shaking and shattering. Dean could barely hear himself think. As it was, he had half a mind to just shout at Castiel to shut the hell up.

He never got a chance to, because right at that moment the mirror on the ceiling shattered, spraying glass everywhere. Dean could feel lots of shards imbedding themselves into his skin.

The force sent him falling to the ground, rolling in more broken glass. Then, with a burst, all the other glass and ceramics in the room exploded. Dean could feel his skin tear. But he was ignoring that pain for the much more prevalent one that was currently threatening to pop his ear drums. The whining increased to the point he couldn't take it anymore, and screamed.

Just then, Bobby burst in the room. "Dean!" He shouted, helping the hunter up. _Thank God_. Dean slumped and leaned into Bobby's hold.

Carefully, Bobby led them out of the motel and into his truck. Shoving Dean in the shotgun side, Bobby drove off, but not after tossing Dean a washcloth to clean out his scrapes.

Gingerly, Dean dabbed his cuts with the cloth.

"How ya doin' kid?" Bobby asked.

"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, peachy." He replied cynically. He would have given Bobby a better answer, but he had a little brother to chew out. He dialed Sam's cell number.

After a few rings, the kid picked up.

- Hey.-

"What are you doing?" Dean demanded. Sam better have a good explanation for why he ditched Dean in the middle of the night.

- Couldn't sleep, went to get a burger. -

Well, Sam's excuse sounded reasonable, but something about the whole thing was still making Dean uneasy. "In my car?" He interrogated. He could hear Sam sigh into the phone.

- Force of habit, sorry. What are you doing up? -

Now Dean felt like an asshole again. Right, I was dead. Gotta remember that. Then he realized Sam was still waiting for an answer to his question. "Well, uh, Bobby's back." He started. Now he just had to think of something that wouldn't make Sam suspicious about what Dean actually planned to do. "We're going to grab a beer."

Bobby gave Dean his signature 'what the hell?' looks. Dean held up a finger to hold him off while Sam spoke.

- All right, well, uh, spill some for me, huh? -

Dean grinned. Sam bought it hook, line, and sinker. "Done. Catch you later." With that he hung up.

Now it was Dean's turn to be interrogated. "Why the hell didn't you tell him?" Bobby demanded.

"Because he'd just try and stop us." Dean told him grimly.

Now Bobby was looking at him cautiously. "From what?" He asked, looking almost afraid of the answer.

"Summoning this thing." Bobby looked at him like he clearly thought Dean was nuts. He had been getting that look a lot recently, Dean realized. "It's time we face it head-on."

"You can't be serious!" Bobby exclaimed.

"As a heart attack," Dean told him. He grinned a wild grin. "It's high noon, baby."

Bobby tried to talk him out of it. "Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything."

Dean shrugged. "That's why we gotta be ready for anything." Dean reached over and pulled out Ruby's demon-killing knife. "We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk..." He trailed off and looked at Bobby hopefully.

"This is a bad idea." He told Dean plainly. Dean tried not to smile. Bobby was so in.

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?"

Bobby gave him a flat look. "We could choose life."

Dean sighed. "Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right?" and now to the heart of the matter, "I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand." And Dean knew Bobby wouldn't like that idea any more than Dean did. Finally, Bobby reached a decision.

"Dean, we could use Sam on this." He said. But Dean shook his head.

"Nah, he's better off where he is." And that was all that was said on the matter.

Bobby pulled into an old warehouse. It looked like it had been abandoned for a wile. Bobby got out of the truck and dug around in the back. He pulled out a couple of can of spray paint, and tossed one to Dean. The two hunters went inside and immediately began working on sigils.

After what seemed like hours, they finally finished warding the place. Bobby was just finishing putting the final touches on a Devil's Trap as Dean surveyed their work. Sigils and symbols covered nearly every square inch of the warehouse, including the ceiling, which Dean was rather proud of himself for.

Dean was over by the table, setting up the weapons and equipment they'd need to summon Castiel.

Dean smirked at Bobby painstakingly drawing out the symbols on the floor. "That's a hell of an art project you've got going there." He ribbed.

Of course, Bobby gave as good as he got. "Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe. How you doin'?"

Dean smiled. "Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife." He listed. "I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of." It was damn impressive.

"This is still a bad idea." Bobby grumbled from the floor.

Dean rolled his eyes and continued working. "Yeah Bobby, I heard you the first ten times." Dean stood up, he had finished his work. From the corner of his eye, he could see Bobby doing the same. He looked at him. "What do you say we ring the dinner bell?" He asked.

Bobby sighed and nodded reluctantly. He walked over to where they had set up the supplies. Taking an pinch of powder from a bowl, he sprinkled it into a larger bowl filled with lamb's blood and a whole bunch of other stuff needed for a summoning ritual. The contents of the bowl began to smoke as Bobby began chanting in Latin. Dean had no idea what he was saying, but it sounded neat.

If Dean expected Castiel to show up right away, he was sorely mistaken. In actuality, they waited a whole 'nother hour before anything interesting happened.

Dean was getting bored. By now he had migrated to sitting on the table, mindlessly swinging his legs. He looked up at Bobby. "You sure you did the ritual right?" He asked. At Bobby's look Dean held his hands up in defense. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"

Bobby was about to snap something smart right back, but was cut off when the entire warehouse began to rattle and shake. Quickly, Dean found himself armed and standing at the ready. Dean backed up so that he was facing the door.

He gave Bobby a sidelong glance. "Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind." He joked.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Before Bobby could even dignify that with a comment, the doors burst open.

It took Dean a second to register what he was seeing.

It was a man, or something that looked like a man, striding into the place as if he owned it. Now Dean had to admit, the creature -because it sure as hell wasn't a man- wasn't very assuming. It, he, had a nice unassuming face with tousled black hair and striking eyes. Coupled with the suit and trenchcoat, this guy looked like your average Joe tax-accountant.

Was this supposed to be the being that pulled him from hell? Was this Castiel?

As the creature- Castiel- walked underneath them, the light bulbs above shattered in a shower of sparks.

It was instinct that made Dean open fire on him. And following Dean, Bobby fired on him too.

Castiel didn't even break stride.

Now Dean was seriously freaked. This was such a bad idea and now they were all gonna die. Castiel was still approaching them menacingly. He locked eyes with Dean as he came to a stop in front of him.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, even though he had a pretty good guess anyways.

Castiel looked at him. "I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." He told Dean solemnly.

Dean didn't know what to think. So, he settled o one emotion he always had plenty of. Anger. "Yeah, thanks for that."

In one fluid motion Dean grabbed the demon killing knife and shoved it in Castiel's heart.

For a second, time stood still.

Castiel cocked his head and stare at the knife curiously. Dean stared at him in fear and awe. Tenderly, Castiel grasped the knife and pulled it out. The clattering the knife made when he let it fall to the ground echoed throughout the entire warehouse. Dean wasn't even daring to breathe.

_I'm so dead._

Dean looked up to meet Castiel's eyes when he caught sight of Bobby sneaking up behind him with a crowbar.

Letting out an Amazonian yell, Bobby swung the crowbar.

Castiel caught it without ever taking his eyes off Dean.

Using the leverage, Castiel swung Bobby around so that the elder hunter was facing him. Bobby stood mesmerized as Castiel reached out with two fingers and rested them on Bobby's forehead. As soon as his fingers made contact with Bobby's head, Bobby crumpled to the ground.

Dean's heart clenched. Bobby just couldn't be dead. Dean couldn't have gotten Bobby killed.

Castiel looked up from staring at the body. "We need to talk, Dean. Alone." He requested in a gravelly voice.

Dean ignored him and rushed to Bobby's side, frantically searching for a pulse.

"Your friend is alive," Castiel informed him. Right after, Dean was able to locate Bobby's pulse. Good. The relief was overwhelming, but Dean didn't have time to rest. He had to get to the bottom of this whole thing once and for all.

"Who are you?" He asked again.

"Castiel." Castiel replied. _No duh. _And Jesus, did this guy gargle rocks or something?

Still, Dean gave a snort of bitter amusement. "Yeah, I figured that much, I mean, what are you?"

Castiel looked at him, as if debating whether or not he should tell Dean. Then he rather simply declared, "I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Nope. That was it. Dean was done. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." He said harshly. If Castiel didn't start telling the truth, somehow, Dean would make him.

Besides, Angels _couldn't _exist. He would have known. He had prayed to them enough when he was a child, and all they did was let him down.

Castiel looked at him sadly. "This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Dean wanted to shove it in Castiel's face that yes, Dean had had faith, but it disappeared after Dean got tired of being disappointed.

Apparently, Castiel decided Dean needed an extra push to believe him. There was a flash of lightening, illuminating Castiel's shadow.

Dean's eyes were drawn to the shadowy figure. Even more so as the shadows of massive wings unfurled for him to see.

Holy Hell.

The light disappeared, taking the silhouette of the wings with it, but the image was burned into Dean's eyes.

But despite the awesome show of power he had just been given, Dean wasn't able to forgive Castiel just yet. He scoffed. "Some angel you are. You burned that poor woman's eyes."

Castiel had the grace to wince. "I warned her not to spy on my true form." He told Dean apologetically. "I can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice." He looked at Dean pointedly. "But you already knew that."

It took a second for that to click.

"You mean the gas station and motel." A beat. "That was you talking?" Dean exclaimed incredulously. Castiel nodded. Dean shook his head. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume." He rubbed his ear in memory of the ear-splitting noise.

"That was my mistake." Castiel told him regretfully. "Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

Dean wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel flattered or offended by that declaration.

But then he realized something else Castiel had said, and Dean could read between the lines. He got angry again. "And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?" He snapped.

Castiel look surprised, and a little embarrassed. "This? This is... a vessel." He told Dean. And damn, Dean thought angrily, the dude almost seemed proud that he was possessing some poor bastard.

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean bit out.

Castiel smiled at him, and fondled the cloth of the trenchcoat. "He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." He assured Dean.

But it was too late, any trust Dean was building for Castiel had disappeared. "Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?" Dean asked.

Castiel frowned. "I told you." And Goddammit, it sounded like the guy didn't even understand why Dean was upset.

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" Dean questioned harshly.

Castiel looked at Dean sympathetically. "Good things do happen, Dean." He told the hunter gently.

Dean scoffed. "Not in my experience."

Castiel peered at him. "What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?"

Dean ignored the question and asked one of his own. "Why'd you do it?" That was the only question that really mattered after all.

Castiel took a step closer to Dean, so that they were standing chest-to-chest. Castiel's blue eyes meet Dean's green ones.

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you." He declared. There was no doubt in Castiel's mind that Dean would help them.

Dean's mind shut down.

Holy crap, what had he gotten himself into?

It was silent in the warehouse except for the flapping of several wings and Castiel disappeared.

Dean barely noticed, though. His mind was still reeling from the bombshell Castiel had dropped.

_Because God commanded it._

God, the lord himself. Not one of his lackeys, but the big cheese himself. Dean had never felt smaller.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Dean, and he couldn't prevent a smile from overtaking his face.

He was on a mission from God.


	5. Are You There God? It's Me, Dean- Part 1

**Chapter 3- Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester- Part 1**

**Yay! Another update. This is Episode 2, and this chapter is where the story really starts to pick up.**

**Finally, now we can have some fun with the timelines!**

**Also, guest appearance from future!Cas, and a lot of question get explained, and even more asked.**

**Disclaimed.**

"Well, then tell me what else it could have been."

Dean huffed. _Why did Sam have to fight him on everything?_ "Look, all I know is that I was not... groped by an angel." Things like that didn't happen to him. Couldn't happen to him.

"Okay. Look, Dean, why do you think this... Castiel... would lie to you?" Which was the exact question Dean was trying to avoid asking himself. It didn't make sense. Good things didn't happen to him. And nobody did anything purely out of the kindness of their hearts. Which meant Castiel would be pulling Dean in for a lot of favors, and Dean didn't appreciate being indebted to anything like that. Who knows what the so-called angel would ask Dean to do? What did it want from him.

Dean didn't think it could possibly be anything good.

"Maybe he's some kinda demon. Demons lie." And if Castiel really was an angel, then Dean didn't know what he would do. Not to mention, he didn't trust Castiel as far as he could throw him. What kind of angel would possess a person? Something wasn't right.

Why would angels be interested in him? He wasn't special.

Sam threw his hands up in frustration. "A demon who's immune to salt rounds, and devil's traps, and Ruby's knife? Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing." And wasn't that the kicker? That just proved that Castiel was powerful, and something that powerful had no business being interested in someone like Dean.

"And don't you think that if angels were real, some hunter somewhere would've seen one, at some point,_ ever_?"

Dean knew he had a point. He couldn't have been the first hunter an angel got involved with. But Sam just had to be a little smartass about it.

"Yeah, you just did Dean." Cue bitchface #39. _Oh hell no_, Dean was not gonna put up with that kinda sass from his baby brother.

"I'm trying to come up with a theory here, okay. Work with me." He snapped.

"Dean, we have a theory." Sam told his brother. Why was his brother being so obstinate?

"Yeah, well, one with a little less fairy dust please." Dean glared at his brother. Sam needed to just drop it. Dean didn't want to think about angels or Hell or how they abandoned him, and only helped him now that they needed him.

"Hey, look, I'm not saying we know for sure." Sam placated. "I'm just saying that I think we-"

"Okay, okay. That's the point. We don't know for sure, so I'm not gonna believe that this thing is a freaking... Angel of the Lord because it says so!"

Bobby opened his mouth to interrupt the shouting match the two chuckleheads were getting into, but before he got the chance to call them over, he was interrupted. There was a loud flapping sound, like a thousand birds had just been released into his living room.

And then, quite suddenly, the topic of their conversation was standing there.

Bobby was torn between watching Dean's reaction, and staring at the angel that had appeared in his living room. When Bobby realized his jaw was still catching flies, he snapped his mouth shut.

Dean was staring at Castiel. Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see that Bobby was about to demand to know what the hell was going on, but Dean couldn't look away.

Castiel looked terrible. Last night the "angel" had been in perfect condition. None of their weapons had even left a scratch. The guy was completely emotionless too, nothing even phased him. But now Castiel looked like hell froze over.

His trench coat was torn and bloodied from multiple stab wounds and claw marks. The suit underneath was in shreds- the shirt seemed to only be held together by one of the buttons in the front. Castiel's tie was loose and hanging off of his neck.

Dean thought it looked like someone had tried to strangle him with it.

His hair was mussed, and everything was covered in blood and dirt.

"What the hell happened to you?" Castiel raised his head to look at Dean. Dean's chest constricted at the pained look in Castiel's eyes.

Yesterday Castiel was a powerful, stubborn, fearless angel. Now it nearly broke Dean's heart to see him so injured.

Before he could stop himself or even think about his actions, Dean found himself moving forward to grip the angel on the arm, mirroring where the angel's own handprint was on Dean. "Castiel? What happened?" Dean asked softly.

That was what broke the angel. One second the angel was standing in Bobby's living room, and the next he had embraced Dean and was holding the hunter to him in a death-grip.

Dean froze in shock. Cas' arms were around him. The angel's fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer so that Cas could bury his face in Dean's neck. He took a deep breath at the crook of Dean's neck.

Dean's arms were sticking out awkwardly as he stared at the angel in surprise. _Well, that was unexpected._ Dean didn't know what drove him to do it, but nevertheless he found himself returning the angel's embrace.

Almost hesitantly, Cas pulled Dean closer, held him tighter. "Castiel?"

No response.

"Uh, not that this isn't pleasant and all, but you mind explaining what the hell is going on. Especially considering it looks like Hell warmed over on ya?" Dean was starting to feel uncomfortable. Sure he was one of the more touch-friendly hunters around- a pat on the back here, a friendly smack there- all that was fine and dandy with him, but hugging? Hugging wasn't all that great for his manhood, especially since Sam and Bobby were watching.

Dean tried in vain to extract himself from the angel, but wasn't having much luck. _Damn, he had almost forgotten how strong this guy was._

"Don't."

It was the first thing Castiel had said since arriving, and it hit home. Dean felt himself stilling and trying to relax into the hold.

Cas waited a bit longer before pulling back just enough to look Dean in the eye. Dean looked aside and shifted anxiously. _Too close_.

"Um, personal space, Castiel. Ever heard of it?" Dean swallowed. And no, his voice definitely didn't squeak. He cleared his throat anyways. _Nothing strange here, nothing to see. Move along._

"I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable, Dean. That was not my intention." Cas looked Dean up and down, assessing. Slowly Cas stepped back and allowed his arms to move from Deans back. Now they rested on Dean's arm. Castiel's left hand was resting on the mark he had left. "It has simply... been a while since I last saw you. I needed...reassurance that you were well."

At that, little warning bells went off in Dean's head. Something was definitely off about this whole encounter. Even though he hadn't known the angel for very long, Dean could tell the angel wasn't acting like himself.

Dean was almost about to accuse Castiel of being an impostor.

Yet, something was holding Dean back. There was a feeling, a gut instinct, that he was missing something, that he didn't have all of the facts. But that this was still Castiel.

Dean didn't know what was going on, and if there was anything Dean hated, it was being left in the dark.

"Okay, why? What's going on Castiel? What aren't you saying?" Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas looked like he wanted to change the subject, however briefly, but Dean wasn't going to let him. Resigned, Castiel let is shoulders droop.

"I- I do not know how much I wish to tell you. The events that have taken place are difficult for me to speak of." Cas looked away from Dean. Neither man noticed that they were still holding one another.

"Look, you gotta tell me what's going on, okay?" Dean tightened his grip on the angel's upper arm. Castiel's eyes flicked back and forth across Dean's face, as if looking for something. Whatever it was, he found it because he drew himself up, squared his shoulders, and gave Dean a curt nod.

"Yes, there is much that needs to be discussed." The angel then turned around and walked towards Bobby's couch.

Dean stared at where the angel had been a moment ago. He could still feel the tingle left behind from when the angel's bright blue eyes raked over him. It was like the angel had peered right into Dean's soul.

He had never felt so exposed.

Slowly, Dean turned around to follow the angel. As he walked towards the couch he made eye-contact with Sam and Bobby. Both seemed as perturbed by the event as he was.

The trio walked over to where Castiel was sitting, fiddling with something on a chain around his neck.

Dean grabbed a chair and pulled it up so that he was facing Castiel. Sam sat on another chair beside the sofa, and Bobby took a seat on the couch opposite of where Castiel was sitting.

"Alright Cas, tell me what's going on." Castiel looked up from where he had been playing with his necklace. His eyes were startled.

"You called me Cas."

Dean shifted nervously. "Uhh, yeah. Is that okay?"

The corner of Cas' mouth twitched in what could almost be considered a smile. "Yes, that is acceptable."

Dean nodded. "Good. So, Cas, want to explain what the hell is going on? I mean, I don't know how time works up there in Heaven, but I saw you just last night, and I think both Bobby and I can attest to you being in loads better shape last night.

Cas looked away for a second, then back at Dean, meeting his eyes. "You claim that we were first acquainted last night, correct?"

"Yeah, you were there, remember?"

Cas sighed and closed his eyes. He waited a few moments before he opened them again. "Dean, the series of events that took place to bring me here now are...complicated."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Complicated? Complicated how?" Cas didn't respond. "Cas." A warning.

Castiel shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should begin by stating that, while I am Castiel, I am not the Castiel you encountered at the barn last night."

Dean would have been more surprised if he hadn't already been half-suspecting it. But still...

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Cas's eyes went wide at Dean's tone, clearly taken aback. Dean was surprised at how emotive this version of Castiel was being. He wondered what happened to make him that way.

"Dean, I swear to you I mean no harm. As I said, while I am not the Castiel of this time, I am Castiel."

Of course that was when Sammy decided to join in, oblivious to the tension.

"Wait, did you say 'of this time'?" Sammy's eye flicked from Castiel to Dean and back again. "Does that mean you're-"

"From the future? Yes." Dean leaned back, letting out a long whistle as he did so. That wasn't quite what he'd been expecting, but alright. And kudos to Cas for being able to drop a bomb on them like that and be completely serious.

Still slightly startled, Dean looked at Sam. "Time travel? We believe in time travel now?"

Sam just shrugged. "Apparently."

"Time travel is just one of many angelic abilities I possess." Castiel informed them. Dean was about to ask what other 'angelic abilities' Cas possessed when Castiel continued, "I came here to prevent certain...events from occurring which happened in my time."

Dean frowned. "What kind of events?"

Cas hesitated, not knowing how to best answer that. "I...Bad ones; terrible things that I have no desire to have repeat themselves. Not again." He closed his eyes against the barrage of memory. Dean spoke up before Castiel was able to get too lost in the past.

"Care to elaborate on that a bit Cas?"

Cas looked at Dean ruefully. "Not particularly." Dean gaped at him.

"Not particularly?" Dean exclaimed crossly. "Well, Cas-"

"Dean, please. I do not think I could take it, having to remember." The despondent way Cas said that hit Dean, and reluctantly, Dean let the matter drop. He would get Castiel to explain things eventually, no need to push him just yet.

Besides, didn't he owe the angel enough not to drag up painful memories? Dean had had to deal with that kind of stuff himself, still did, and wasn't that a big thing, you know, 'treat others they way you want to be treated' and all that jazz?

So it was settled. No pushing.

"Fine. So what are you here for?"

Castiel let out a long breath and shifted on the couch to make himself more comfortable. "I am from approximately ten years in your future." He began his explanation.

_"Cas, you ready for this?" Dean looked at him, worry etched on his face. Cas looked down. _

_"I am as ready as I'll ever be, Dean." Dean looked at him with sympathy._

_"Hey," Dean walked over to him and slung his arm around Cas's shoulders, "it's gonna be alright, you'll see." Cas leaned into the touch, taking all the comfort he could._

_Cas grimaced. "I hate that it always leads to me fighting my brothers and sisters. I do not wish to oppose them, but I know I don't have a choice." Cas knew Dean understood his reluctance. Dean had been in the same position many times as well. Cas smiled at Dean. He would be in a worse place were it not for the hunter's support, he knew that._

_Dean frowned. "You gonna be okay to fight? You can sit this one out if you have to. You're no good to anybody distracted."_

_There was a time where Cas would have taken offense to that, but nearly ten years with Dean Winchester had made Cas realize that this was Dean's way of showing concern without getting emotional._

_"I'll be fine. I regret that things have come to this, but I will always stand by your side Dean. I will not fail you. Remember that." Cas gave Dean a piercing look, hoping the hunter could read his sincerity and worry._

_Dean tightened his grip on Cas's shoulder. "Yeah. I know, dude." He shook Cas a bit and laughed. "Really Cas, stop worrying! We've been through worse and come out on top. You really think a big battle between Heaven and Hell's gonna bring us down?"_

Cas sighed. "We had been through so many things together. Yet each time we emerged victorious, even when things seemed their most dire."

_Dean was loading the shotguns and Cas was working on portable sigils and Devil's Traps. Cas looked up briefly when Sam entered the room and began helping Dean with weapons._

_They had been through a lot together. First the apocalypse with Lucifer and Michael wanting to ride around in them. Then the civil war up in Heaven and all the trouble that had caused. That he had caused._

_He and Dean had also gotten closer in purgatory. And Dean had also helped Cas when he had been temporarily human after the angels fell. Their shared experience led to Cas feeling more at peace near the elder Winchester than the younger one. _

_Yes. They had faced many foes and came out stronger for it. Perhaps they would make through this fight after all. All he needed was faith, and Cas had enough faith in Dean Winchester to spare._

"There was a battle. I thought... we had been winning. I thought it was almost over. I got careless. I wasn't paying attention. Not until it was too late." Cas closed his eyes. The battle had been brutal.

_It was chaos. Inky black smoke billowed out from the demons surrounding them. Sam stood behind Cas, chanting exorcisms at the top of his lungs. Dean was standing beside him, picking off demons with his shotgun. Each bullet was engraved with a Devil's Trap._

_Cas flew wherever he was needed. His angel blade flashed as he used it to pick off demons and rogue angels alike. It quickly became the repetitive motions of duck, punch, stab. Again and again until the battle was won._

_It seemed like hours later, but the tide was clearly turning in their favor. Many angels fought alongside Cas now, and Dean and Sam were far enough away from the thick of the fighting. They would be safer there, picking off deserters._

_A shadow fell across the battlefield. _

_The fighting seemed to slow as their attention was diverted to the two figures above them. Everyone held their breath. The winner of this fight would dictate which side emerged victorious, Cas knew._

_This was the 'Big Boss Battle' as Dean had dubbed it._

_Archangel against archdemon. Heaven versus Hell._

"Until what was too late?" Dean asked.

_The fight was awe inspiring. Bolts and flashes of power danced between the two titans. One would fire, and the other would dodge. It was like a twisted dance._

_And portions of the armies below were struck down by the crossfire. Cas winced. It was a terrible fate, to be struck by the full power of an archangel or archdemon as the case may be. The energy was simply too much for one to take, and it left the victim utterly destroyed. The Soul itself was shattered, the pieces thrown to the far corners of the world, irreparably damaged. _

_It was a fate Cas wouldn't have wished on his worst enemy. _

_So what happened next was devastating._

Cas fingered the pendant on his necklace. Dean thought it looked like a rock or something. Maybe a sliver of glass. It was hard to tell.

However, as soon as Castiel touched it, it lit up like a beacon. Light poured from it and pulsed. Pale white light emanated from it, covering Cas's hands in it's warmth.

_It was kinda comforting to look at_, Dean thought, _and pretty_.

Cas stared at. His voice was devoid of inflection as he spoke. "Something happened, and I failed you. You placed your trust in me, and I failed." Cas squeezed his eyes shut and his grip tightened around the strange bauble.

"Failed what? What happened?" Dean looked away from the necklace to watch Cas's face. Cas still wasn't looking at him.

_The next blast almost hit Cas. There was a shout in the distance. _

_"Cas!" Cas could see Dean running towards him to see if the angel was unharmed. Cas waved his hand to show Dean he was alright. He could see the tension run out of Dean once he saw Cas was okay. Dean slowed his pace to a walk._

_Cas almost missed it._

_The archangel and archdemon were still fighting. The archangel let out a powerful blast that barreled towards the archdemon. The archdemon managed to avoid it at the last second. _

_The shot continued it trajectory. And it was heading straight for Dean. _

_Cas had never felt so terrified._

_Cas had never flown so fast._

_His wings pumped as he made a mad dash towards Dean. Dean didn't see the danger he was in. Around Cas, demons reached up to snag him and slow him down. He smote them without a second thought._

_The blast moved closer. Everything around him seemed to slow. He felt like he was flying through molasses. _

_"Dean!" _

_His true voice bled through in his desperation. Dean spun to look at him, eyes wide with fear._

_Cas was so close. His fingers reached out to Dean's soul._

_They had just brushed the soul when the blast hit, flinging Cas across the battlefield. _

_Spots danced in Cas's vision. Weary and exhausted Cas looked down at his clenched hand. Slowly, his fingers opened to reveal the tiniest sliver of soul. It was a beautiful soul, bright and shining and pure. Dean's soul. _

_Cas lifted his head to search the grounds for the remainders of Dean. If he could gather enough shards he would be able to resurrect Dean. He would be okay._

_But even as he did so, he knew his efforts would be in vain. There was nothing left. The shard of Dean's soul he held in his hand was all that remained of Dean Winchester._

_It wasn't enough._

_It would never be enough._

_Cas's hand closed around the soul shard, and he pulled it close to his chest. _

_Cas heard footsteps approaching, but he didn't look up. _

_"Cas?" Oh God no, it was Sam. "Cas, are you alright? Where's Dean?"_

Cas finally looked away from the glowing necklace and let it rest against his chest. As soon as Cas stopped touching it, it dimmed. "I do not wish to say. I will say however, that I do not wish for it to happen again. Which was why I gathered up the remnants of my strength to travel back to this time to prevent it."

Okay. Cas didn't want to talk about it. Dean reminded himself that he wasn't going to push. "That mean you'll be hanging around here?"

"No, I will not." Cas told him softly. Dean was not disappointed. He wasn't. Really.

Dean leaned back in his seat and eyed Cas critically. "So let me get this straight. You'll be stopping this terrible future by doing... what exactly? Nothing?"

Cas matched Dean's expression. "Not exactly. There are many things I simply cannot do because I am from a different timeline. One of which is that the longer I stay in this time, the weaker I become. Eventually it will reach the point where I am no stronger than a human. Using my abilities to assist you will only expedite that."

Dean was hit with a sudden sympathy for the angel. "Okay, so you can't use your angel mojo. Surely there's other stuff you can help with?"

Cas considered the question for a moment. "Yes, and I will do what can in those type of situations." He turned his head to stare at Dean intently. "But I cannot be Superman."

Dean felt that phrase had meant something to this Castiel and his future self. It almost made him sad that he didn't understand it.

"Alright. I can get behind that." Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and leaned forward. "So, Cas, what's step one to preventing this future you're from?"

"I have already undertaken the first step, which was coming to this time to warn you of coming events." At that Cas looked pointedly at Sam and Bobby, including them in the conversation. With a jolt Dean realized this was the first time Cas had indicated he was aware Sam and Bobby were even here since he arrived.

Dean shook his head to clear it. "So what now? Any ideas?"

For a moment Cas almost looked embarrassed. "Not many." He glanced away and chewed on his lower lip.

Dean raised his eyebrow at the angel's obvious nervousness. He was trying very hard to repress the urge to smile at how human the angel was acting.

Finally, Cas came to a decision. "I believe that should you and I form a close bond sooner in our relationship than we did in my timeline, the more likely certain events will change."

Dean held up a hand, signaling for Cas to pause. "Wait, wait, wait. Bond? Relationship? What the hell are you talkin' about Cas?"

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "In my time, we were great friends with great trust in each other. Is that not sufficient for use of those words?"

Dean laughed. "Naw, I guess it's fine. I overreacted a bit there, Cas. So, you were saying that the best way to save the future is..." Dean trailed off and waited to see if Cas had anything to interject, "what? Me and you getting all 'buddy-buddy'?"

Cas inclined his head. "That's not the phrasing I would use," Castiel said with a slight smile, "but it is accurate. I believe that fostering trust between yourself and my counterpart early in this timeline will be crucial to achieving my goal." Cas looked away then, and said aside,"Dean, you and I were not close the first year of our acquaintance. I confess that I did not know if I could trust you. Because of this, I was not involved with many of your early hunts. If I had, I believe the outcome would have been very different." Cas looked back to meet Dean's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before Cas spoke again, "We lost many friends, I wish for that to change."

Dean leaned back in his seat. "This is really big, isn't it?" He said, a little overwhelmed. He looked to Sam to see if he was as taken aback as Dean was. If Sam's wide, frantic eyes were any indication, he was.

Cas nodded. "Yes, it is of great import that I do not fail in my task."

"So," Dean started, "What are you gonna do? You going to go back to your own time?"

Castiel shook his head, a haunted look on his face. "No...I can't, not...not yet." His eyes met Dean's desperately. "I have to make sure things will be different this time."

"I understand, Cas." Dean told him gently. And Dean did. He knew that if anything happened to Sam, he would do anything to fix it. "But, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think the you in this timeline is too keen on being pals with me." He said without humor.

"Dean." Castiel reached forward, placing his hand on Dean's arm. "You must know that I am your friend, and shall always be your friend. Time cannot change that. Try, and he will respond." Cas squeezed briefly, then let go.

Dean sat unmoving, trying to wrap his head around what was going on. How the hell was he supposed to be friends with Castiel? His eyes flicked to the Castiel in front of him. This Cas was easy to talk to, he acted almost human, but the other one...

The other Castiel was a different story entirely.

Just then Cas stood up quickly. "I must go. It is dangerous for me to stay here. I do not wish for my brothers and sisters to discover my plan."

It suddenly came to Dean that the other angels may not approve of Cas's plan. He really hoped that the guy wouldn't get caught. He seemed like a decent enough person. "Alright." He nodded. Dean hesitated. "What if we need your help?" He asked Castiel before he could stop himself.

Cas looked at him sadly "I can make no promise other than that I will try to assist. But Dean," he said meaningfully, "I will try."

Dean nodded. That was the best they were going to get. "Okay."

Just then Bobby interjected. "Hey, wait." Dean saw Bobby had a phone in his hand. "'Fore you poof away, I've been trying to reach a friend o'mine. Name's Olivia Lowry. Hasn't responded to any of my calls. She alright?" Bobby drilled Cas.

Castiel felt his shoulder slump in regret. "I do not know." He admitted to the hunter. "As I said, we were not close in the beginnings of our acquaintance. I was not present for many things that occurred then. This would be one of those occasions." He told them shamefully. "I'm sorry I cannot be of more help."

Dean couldn't believe it. The dude genuinely sounded upset that he couldn't help them.

Bobby grunted. "It's fine. Forget it. I just got a bad feelin' is all." Bobby looked back at the phone in his hand and considered trying the number again.

Cas looked at him carefully. "I have found," he started, "that your 'feelings' often have merit. If you truly feel wary of the situation, I suggest you be careful." He warned.

Cas took a step back. And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.

Dean was staring at the place Castiel had just been, the sound of wings still echoing in the room.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Right, you heard the angel. We gotta go check on Olivia. Bring weapons." He ordered. "If this angel's right about my intuition, we may end up walking in on something really bad." Bobby pocketed his phone and left the room to gather up some weapons. He was already making a mental list of what they'd need to bring.

Sam turned to Dean. "So, what do you think?"

Dean grunted. "What do I think about _what,_ Sam?"

Sam shrugged and tried not to let his excitement show. "About Castiel. About the time travel. Come on dude, you gotta admit, that's pretty cool."

Dean couldn't stop the laugh that broke free at that comment. "Yeah, I guess so."

Sam sat down by the computer. "I wonder what our lives were like." He said, almost to himself.

Dean gave him a funny look. "Well, I don't know about you, but I don't wanna know." He said, crossing his arms.

Sam drooped. "But why, Dean?"

Dean looked at him incredulously. "Did you not see Cas? The poor guy was devastated! Not to mention he was sayin' that we lost friends." Dean sighed, and looked down at his hands. "I don't wanna know who we lost. I don't wanna know about all the crap we went through. I doubt any of it was good."

Sam was struck silent. He didn't know how to respond to his brother's words. Maybe the best thing to do would be to agree with him. "I suppose you're right. Besides, none of it matters now that Castiel's gone ahead and changed it, right?" He gave Dean a tentative smile to show that Sam hadn't meant to be insensitive.

To Sam's relief, Dean gave a small smile back. "Suppose so." Dean agreed.

Sam suddenly had an idea. Grinning mischievously, he called "Hey Dean!"

Dean frowned in confusion. "What?"

"I don't suppose you believe in angel's now?"

The pillow that hit him in the face at that question was well worth it in Sam's opinion.


End file.
